iL-^ 


DRAMATIC  WORKS  OF  J.  HARTLEY  MANNERS 


HAPPINESS 

AND 

OTHER     PLAYS 


BY  THE  SAME  A  UTHOR 

•     • 

• 
**Peg  O'  My  Heart" 

A  Novel  founded  by  Mr.  Man- 

ners  on  his   Comedy  of  Youth 

of  the  same  title. 

HAPPINESS 
AND    OTHER    PLAYS 


BY  5 

J.  HARTLEY  MANNERS 

// 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

1919 


C!OPTRIGHT,  1914 

By  dodd,  mead  and  company 


TO 
LAURIE 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 
1 


Happiness,  A  Study 

Just  as  Well,  A  Twentieth-Century  Romance       .     71 
The  Day  of  Dupes,  An  Allegory 125 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


lACINa 

PAUK 


Shabby    Jenny" 4 

Doleen"         ..........      .74 

The   'Dupe'" .>     .      .      .130 

Many   Happy   Returns "      .     ■..      .     ...     .      .      .150 


PRODUCED  AT  THE   CORT  THEATRE 

NEW  YORK  CITY 

ON  FRIDAY  AFTERNOON,  MARCH  6th,  1914 

WITH  THE  FOLLOWING  CASTS 

HAPPINESS 
A  STUDY 

Philip  Chandos H.  Reeves-Smith 

Fritz  Scowcroft Peter  Bassett 

Mrs.  Chrystal-Pole Violet  Kemble-Cooper 

Jenny Laurette    Taylor 

JUST  AS  WELL 
A  TWENTIETH  CENTURY  ROMANCE 

Hon.  Doleen  Sweetmarch Laurette  Taylor 

Mrs.  Carfax Emilie  Melville 

Maid Yvonne  Jarrette 

Captain  Trawbridge Hassard  Short 

THE  DAY  OF  DUPES 
AN  ALLEGORY 

The  Artist H,  Reeves-Smith 

The  Politician Clarence    Handy  side 

The  Financier Reginald  Masom 

The  Litterateur Hassard    Short 

The  Attendant Emilie  Melville 

The  '  Dupe  ' Laurette  Taylor 


HAPPINESS 
Written  in  1914» 


"  Do  ye  know  what  I  think  happiness  is  really? 
Lookin*  forward," 


CHARACTERS 

Philip  Chandos  Mrs.  Chrystal-Pole 

Fritz  Scowcroft  *         Jenny 

The  action  posset  in  Mrs.  Chrystal-Pole's  'Apartment 
in  New  York  City,  toward  evening  on  a  long  May  day. 


'8HABBV    JENNY 


HAPPINESS 

The  curtain  discloses  a  comfortably  furnished  room  of  a 
modem  apartment-house.  The  furniture  is  neither 
elaborate  nor  tawdry.  The  hangings  and  pictures  are 
in  good  taste,  yet  without  the  personal  note  of  seleC' 
Hon  being  apparent.  The  effect  is  that  of  affluence 
without  enthusiasm.  An  owner  of  beautiful  things 
with  the  sense  of  beauty  lacking  in  the  owner. 

Mrs.  Chry8tal-Pole,  a  charming  young  widow  of 
twenty-seven,  is  lying  in  a  window-seat,  fast  asleep; 
the  sun  streaming  in  on  her  naturally  clear  complexion 
and  geJiuinely  blonde  hair.  The  face  is  quite  at  rest, 
the  features  relaxed,  the  breathing  slight.  She  is 
evidently  in  a  light,  dreamless  sleep. 

Fritz  Scowcroft,  a  burly,  genial,  hearty  man  of  fifty- 
five,  is  standing  with  his  back  to  the  mantelpiece,  good- 
naturedly  waiting  for  her  to  wake.  He  is  whistling 
a  tune  under  his  breath.  After  a  few  seconds  he  looks 
at  his  watch,  smiles,  turns  round  and  adjusts  his  hair 
and  tie  in  the  mirror,  then  walks  quietly  over  to  the 
door,  opens  it  and  is  about  tof  pass  out  when  Mrs. 
Pole  stretches  lazily  and  yawns  heartily. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Turns  in  doorway.]     Awake,  "Mouse-y"? 


HAPPINESS 

MRS.    CHRYSTAIrPOLE 

[Looks  at  him  languidly.]  Yes,  father  —  for  a  min- 
ute. [Closes  her  eyes  and  settles  herself  hack  to  sleep 
again.] 

SCOWCROFT 

[Closes  door,  goes  to  Mrs.  Pole  and  beams  down  at 
her.  He  gently  tugs  at  the  point  of  her  shoe.  Once 
again  Mrs.  Pole  opens  her  eyes  and  looks  at  him  smil- 
ing down  at  her  good-naturedly.]  Make  it  five  minutes, 
will  ye? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Looks  at  ScowcROFT  steadily;  she  gradually  straight- 
ens up;  the  lassitude  slowly  disappears.] 

SCOWCROFT 

Wide  awake? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Oh,  yes;  I  suppose  so:  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 
What  is  it? 

SCOWCROFT 

Dropped  in  to  see  ye.  Told  the  maid  not  to  wake 
ye.  So  I  just  stood  about  for  a  bit.  I  was  going  when 
you  waked  up.     Everything  all  right  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POX*E 

Deadly  dull. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Sits  down  near  her.]     All  alone  here? 


HAPPINESS 

M»S.    CHRTSTAL-POLB 


Yes. 


SCOWCROFT 

No  companion  —  or  —  anyone  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 

SCOWCROFT 

Why  don't  ye  come  home.^ 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POUE 

What  £oT> 

SCOWCROFT 

Less  lonesome  for  ye. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAIi-POUt 

Think  so? 

SCOWCROFT 

Yer  mother  does.     Will  ye  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 

SCOWCROFT 

Why  not? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I'd  rather  stay  here. 

SCOWCROFT 

Arc  ye  happy? 

-C    7    > 


HAPPINESS 

MRS.    CHRYSTAI/-POLE 


Not  a  bit. 


SCOWCROFT 

Yer  mother  and  I  are  worrying  about  ye. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

You've  no  need  to. 

SCOWCROFT 

Still  grievin'  over  Mark? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POI^ 

No. 

SCOWCROFT 

He  was  a  good  husband  to  ye,  wasn't  he.^ 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Was  he? 

SCOWCROFT 

He  always  seemed  to  be  —  to  me.     Wasn't  he  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  suppose  SO  —  as  husbands  go. 

SCOWCROFT 

Let  me  see  —  how  long's  he  been  dead  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Oh,  a  year  —  or  ten  months,  or  —  really  I've  forgot- 


ten. 


SCOWCROFT 

That's  a  funny  way  to  talk  of  yer  dead  husband. 


HAPPINESS 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POL,E 

I  don't  want  to  talk  about  him  at  all. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Looks  at  her  in  a  puzzled,  curious  manner.]     Feel 
weU.> 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Impatiently.]     Oh,  yes.     Physically  —  quite  well. 

scawcROFT 
I    Sleep  all  right? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Looks  like  it. 

SCOWCROFT 

Eat  good.^ 


lores. 


MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 


SCOWCROFT 

Then  what's  the  matter.  Mouse? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  don't  know,  I  suppose  I'm  just  rusting  out. 

SCOWCROFT 

Rusting? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

You  either  keep  bright  or  rust.     I  don't  keep  bright, 
so  I  suppose  I  must  be  rusting. 

J-  -C  9  3- 


>  ; 


HAPPINESS 

SCOWCROFT 

Do  you  go  out  much? 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 

SCOWCROFT 

See  many  people? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 

SCOWCROFT 

Why  don't  ye? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Oh,  what's  the  use?  I'm  tired  of  the  old  ones  and 
the  new  ones  are  impossible.     What's  the  use? 

SCOWCROFT 

You  need  rousing. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  suppose  I  do. 

SCOWCROFT 

Be  up  and  doing.  Nothing  like  it.  Sets  the  blood 
circulating  and  clears  the  brain.  Go  out  more.  Meet 
people.     Ever  go  to  the  opera  now? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Never. 

SCOWCROFT 

Why  don't  ye? 

-C   10  >        - 


HAPPINESS 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 


IVe  been. 


SCOWCROFT 

Go  again.     It  grows  on  you. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

What  —  for  instance  ? 

SCOWCROFT 

Drop  in  the  Italian  nights. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

f  Italian  opera  is  done  to  death.  They  haven't  thought 
;of  a  new  theme  in  fifty  years.  The  same  old  motifs  all 
over  again. 

SCOWCROFT 

—'I  love  'em.  I  never  miss  "  Rigoletto."  Thousands 
Vk%  mCr  Tiie  house  is  always  packedr-  [Sings  "La 
Donne  e  Mobile.*'^     Ta  ta  ta  lum  ti  tum. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Closes  her  eyes.]     Don't. 

^  SCOWCROFT 

[Stops  singing.  Thinks.  Then  suddenly:]  You 
used  to  like  Wagner. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  was  a  child  then.  One  grows  out  of  Wagner  as  one 
does  out  of  one's  clothes.  After  a  while  neither  fit.  I 
can't  bear  them  now.  Noisy  beasts.  They  scream  at 
you  until  you  can't  hear  them. 

-c  n  > 


HAPPINESS 

SCOWCROFT 

I  like  'em  —  once  a  year.     Shakes  one  up. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

s^^  So  does  a  house-cleaning. 

SCOWCROFT 

Well,  what  about  the  theatre  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

What  about  it? 

SCOWCROFT 

Do  you  ever  go? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Never. 

SCOWCROFT 

You  used  to. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL,-POL,E 

I  don't  any  more.     I  hate  being  improved,  jl  detest 
uncleanliness.     I  loathe   disease.     Why  waste   evenings 
out  of  a  life  we  live  but  once,  watching  both  under  the  / 
guise  of  "  improvement  "  ?  / 

SCOWCROFT  / 

That's  true.     They  are  a  bit  raw  just  now.  / 

\  MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE  / 

\    Very.  ^^ 


SCOWCROFT 

Why  don't  ye  travel  then?     That  'ud  wake  you  up. 
-C   12   > 


HAPPINESS 

C""^  MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

/   Would  it? 

SCOWCEOFT 

Finest  thing  in  the  world. 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Where? 

SCOWCEOFT 

How  about  Switzerland?     On  top  of  the  mountains. 

MES.    CHEYSTAL-POLE 

They  make  me  dizzy. 

SCOWCEOFT 

Oh!     Well,  the  Rhine,  then?     Up  one  day  and  down 
the  next.     Keep  on  the  move  all  the  time.     Eh? 

MES.    CHEYSTAL-POLE 

I  detest  German  cooking. 

SCOWCEOFT 

[Crestfallen.]     Do    ye?     [Brightens,']     Italy!     The 
wonderful  galleries.  • 

MES.    CHEYSTAL-POLE 

I  can't  bear  their  railways  —  and  galleries  weary  me. 
Besides,  I've  seen  them. 

SCOWCEOFT 

[Persevering.]     Well,  take  a  run  over  to  Paris. 

MES.    CHEYSTAL-POLE 

[Shivers.]     Horrible !     Over-dressed  women  and  un- 
der-bred tourists. — jOh,  no!     No  more  travelling. 

I     -C  IS  3- 


\ 


HAPPINESS 

^     -  SCOWCROFT 

I    don't    know.     I    like    Paris    still.      [Laughs    and 
I  chuckles  to  himself  as  old-time  memories  revive.     Then 
\  he    proceeds    again    to    question    his    daughter.]      Read 
much? 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 

SCOWCROFT 

You  used  to  love  it. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  don't  any  more. 

SCOWCROFT 

That's  a  pity.     There  are  some  of  the  biggest  writers 
today  there  have  ever  been.     I  read  'em  all. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

For  instance? 

SCOWCROFT 

[Thinks.]     Wells!     There's  a  great  chap.     A  good, 
solid  thinker. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Microscopic  and  middle-class.     He  gives  one  mental 
indigestion. 

SCOWCROFT 

You  don't  tell  me.     I  find  him  very  satisfactory.     Do 
ye  like  Arnold  Bennett? 

•c  1*  > 


HAPPINESS 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Not  at  all.  He's  as  insular  as  the  people  in  an  Eng- 
lish omnibus.  \ 

SCOWCROFT 

That  so?  Bright  and  original,  I'd  call  him.  Then 
there's  Galsworthy.     He  has  something  to  say.  i 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

He  looks  upon  himself  as  a  missionary.  He  is  always 
—  apparently  —  trying  to  reform  something  that  hasn't 
existed  for  years.     He  is  most  irritating. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Despondently.']  Dear  me!  He  always  gives  m€ 
something  to  think  about.  [Suddenly.]  Ah !  Shaw ! 
Bernard  Shaw!     What  about  himf 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

He  suggests  nothing  so  much  as  an  imitation  diamond. 

SCOWCROFT 

Diamond  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Imitation!  He  glitters  but  doesn't  stand  analysis. 
He  makes  one  so  sorry  for  the  dead  and  the  living  he 
is  borrowing  from.     They  put  things  so  much  better. 

SCOWCROFT 

Don't  ye  find  him  amusing?     /  do. 


■C    15   > 


HAPPINESS 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  suppose  it  is  amusing  to  find  a  writer  editing  every- 
one else  under  the  mask  of  originality.  He  makes  me 
furious.      [Pause.]     I  hate  reading.     Especially  novels. 

SCOWCEOFT 

[Laughs  uneasily.']     You're  in  a  bad  way,  "  Mouse-y  " ! 

t 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Drop  the  "  y/'  father,  please.  It  doesn't  suit  any- 
thing. "  Mouse "  is  bad  enough,  but  "  Mouse-y  "! 
Atrocious! 

/       SCOWCEOFT 

_^^J^Ch^erfuJhf.2.  ^ All  right,  dear.  Anything  to  please 
ye.  Why  don't  you  go  into  one  of  the  "  movements  "  .'* 
Match  your  brain  with  others.     Ye're  clever  enough. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  dislike  ^talking  —  and  I  abhor  listening, 

SCOWCEOFT 

Well,  then,  take  up  science, 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Don't!  Bumpy  foreheads,  furrowed  faces  and  spec- 
tacles !     Don't ! 

SCOWCEOFT 

Humph!     Go  out  in  the  air  much.^ 

MRS.    CHRYSTAIi-POLE 

No.     I  can't  bear  walking. 

-C    16   > 


HAPPINESS 

SCOWCROFT 

Ride  horseback? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Too  jolty. 

SCOWCROFT 

Get  an  automobile. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  have  one. 

SCOWCROFT 

Use  it  much? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Never.     It's  so  monotonous.     If  one  goes  fast  enough 
everything  seems  the  same. 

SCOWCROFT 

i 

[     You  used  to  paint.     Good  pictures,  too,  /  thought. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

;    I  couldn't  draw  a  straight  line,  now, 

SCOWCROFT 

Well,  then,  write  something  yerself, 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No    one    could    read    it.     And    if    they    could,    they 
wouldn't. 

SCOWCROFT 

You  need  a  change.     Go  and  live  in  the  country. 

-en  > 


HAPPINESS 

MES.    CHUYSTAL-POLE 

Too  hot  in  the  summer  and  too  cold  in  the  winter. 
And  the  insects!  The  town's  bad  enough  —  but  the 
country  —  unbearable. 

^ SCOWCEOFT 

j     Ye  could  grow  flowers  —  and  things. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Flowers  make  me  ill.  They  always  remind  me  of  a 
sick-room  or  a  stupid  opera.     Senseless  things. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Dejectedly.]     Oh! 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Looks  up  at  him.]     No,  father!     I'm  afraid  there's 
\no  loophole. 

SCOWCROFT 

Ever  think  of  marryin'  again  .'^ 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Good  heavens,  no!     I've  tried  it.     Nothing  in  it. 

SCOWCROFT 

You  used  to  love  Mark. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Did  I? 

8COWCROFT 

[Reproachfully.]     "Mouse"! 
-C   18  > 


HAPPINESS 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  suppose  I  did. —  At  first.  And  afterwards  —  when 
he  was  away.  Poor  Mark!  He  was  always  trying  to 
make  jokes.  Such  bad  ones,  too.  Why  do  some  men 
think  it  their  sole  duty  to  try  and  amuse  ns}  So  many 
husbands  remind  me  of  the  clown  in  a  child's  circus. 
They  must  be  funny  at  all  costs.  It  makes  life  so 
pathetic,  doesn't  it.'* 

SCOWCROFT 

I  don't  know.  I  make  a  few  myself  once  in  a  while. 
I  like  cheerfulness.  Yer  mother  laughs, —  sometimes. 
Are  ye  goin'  to  live  on  here.'' 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  suppose  so. 

SCOWCROFT 

How  long? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  haven't  the  least  idea.  Until  something  happens,  I 
suppose. 

SCOWCROFT 

Something  happen  }  ^  What  could  happen  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAIi-POLE 

That's  it.  Whaif  Nothing  could  make  life  worth 
while  now  —  except  a  miracle.  And  the  age  of  miracles 
is  past,  isn't  it? 

-C  19  3- 


HAPPINESS 

SCOWCROFT 

[Changes  his  whole  manner;  takes  her  hand  and  pats 
it.]     Sorry,  "  Mouse."     I've  done  all  I  could,  haven't  I  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Have  you? 

SCOWCROFT 

Yes.  Both  your  mother  and  I  have.  Ever  since  ye 
were  a  baby. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  suppose  so.  Fed  me  and  dressed  me  and  had  me 
taught  and  then  married  me  offw  What  more  can 
parents  do? 

SCOWCROFT 

I  don't  know  of  anything  more  we  could  have  done. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POUE 

It's  a  wonderful  life  —  for  a  woman  —  to  be  born  of 
good,  rich  parents,  isn't  it?     Everything  done  for  her. 

''  SCOWCROFT 

\        It    was    for    you.     Anything    to    make    you    happy. 


MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

And  what's  the  result?  Here  I  am,  an  wnhappy, 
tired,  old  woman  of  twenty-seven.  The  poorest  girl  in 
this  city  is  happier  than  I  am. 

SCOWCROFT 

Are  ye  reproachin'  me? 

-C  20  > 


HAPPINESS 

Mils.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No,  father,  I'm  not.  You  had  your  life  to  live. 
YouVe  lived  it.  -You've  worked  hard.  You've  suc- 
ceeded. But,  oh,  how  often  I've  seen  the  children  of 
hard-working,  successful  men  come  into  the  world  old 
and  careworn  and  disillusioned.  The' parents/ had  put 
their  b^st  into  their  Uvea.  Then  tj^  child  came  along, 
ured  of  the  ^ruggle  Jfefore  b^^ning.  Comfort  de- 
stroys the  incentive  to  effort.  Those  who  have  never 
known  poverty  have,  sometimes,  but  little  sympathy  with 
the  poor.  The  selfish  don't  know  pity.  I  don't.  Too 
much  has  been  given  me  —  too  much  done  for  me.  '•  It'» 
~»..  eugimis,  mjidld,  wui'hl-ifcary  life  to  the  "cfaiid  oi  the 
undeveloped  richi 

SCOWCROFT 

I  don't  know  that  I've  been  particularly  selfish.  I've 
given  to  the  poor. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

But  you've  never  lived  among  them. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Indignantly.]  Lived  with  them.^  I  should  think 
not.  I  worked  hard  all  my  life  so  that  I  wouldn't  have 
to. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

It  might  have  been  better  for  us  —  for  me  perhaps  — 

if  we  had.     Sometimes  I've  looked  from  the  window  of 

our  car  and  envied  a  little  group  of  bright-eyed,  pinched- 

faced   working  girls,   laughing   in   the   streets   in   their 

-C  21   > 


HAPPINESS 

lunch-hour.  The  world  is  all  before  them.  It  has  a 
sense  of  mystery.  It's  never  had  any  for  me.  [Sighs.] 
Where  will  it  all  end?  [The  telephone  bell  rings.] 
Don't  go,  father.  [Mrs.  Pole  goes  to  the  telephone, 
takes  off  the  receiver.]  Well.^  [Pause.]  Yes. 
[Pause.]  Yes, —  I'm  at  the  'phone.  [Pause.]  Who? 
[Pause.]  Spell  it.  [Pause.  Spells  it  aloud  and  writes 
the  name  on  the  telephone-pad.]  C-h-a-n-<t-o-s.  Oh, 
yes.  Tell  him  to  come  up.  [Hangs  up  receiver  and  goes 
to  ScowcROFT.]      Philip  Chandos.     Remember  him? 

SCOWCKOFT 

Old  Silas  Chandos's  son? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes.     Another  of  us. 

SCOWCROFT 

How? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

His  father  bought  something,  or  invented  something, 
or  found  something  in  the  ground  that  didn't  belong  to 
him,  and  made  a  fortune.  Then  he  brought  Philip  into 
the  world. 

SCOWCROFT 

I  remember  Phil  when  he  was  a  boy.  (Wvery  bright 
lad. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLB 

Was  he?     Look  at  him  now. 
-C  22   > 


t 


HAPPINESS 

8COWCE0FT 


Now? 


MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Walking  about  until  the  end  comes, —  doing  nothing 
worth  while. 


SCOWCROFT  ,^ 


Well,  he  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself.  His  father 
worked  hard  enough. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Too  hard.  That's  the  pity.  He  cursed  his  son  with 
a  fortune,  so  there's  no  need  for  Phil  to  work.  He  just 
drifts  along.     One  of  us. 

SCOWCROFT 

You  put  it  all  on  the  fathers,  eh  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAI>-POLE 

A  great  deal. 

SCOWCROFT 

I  am  sorry  I  came  now. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POI*E 

Don't  say  that. 

t  SCOWCROFT 

good-nature  and  cheerfulness.  Now  I 
feci  as  if  I'd  been  to  a  funeral.  Ye've  taken  all  the 
life  out  of  me.     [Goes  toward  the  door.] 


h 


•c  23  :}- 
d   . 


HAPPINESS 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Won't  you  stay  a  little  longer?  Mr.  Chandos  is  com- 
ing up. 

SCOWCROFT 

No.  I  don't  want  to  meet  him.  If  money,  care  and 
love  have  done  this  for  you,  I'd  rather  not  have  made 
anything.     You've  made  me  thoroughly  miserable. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL.-POLE 

I  make  everyone  miserable  who  comes  near  me,  father. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Stands  over  her,  looking  down  at  her  gloomily.] 
How  is  it  all  going  to  end  ?     I  am  afraid  for  ye. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

There  was  a  time  when  I  was  afraid  for  myself.  I 
don't  care  now. 

[Enter  Philip  Chandos,  a  tired,  worn-loohing  man  of 
thirty-five.  He  is  scrupulously  dressed,  and  has  the 
bearing  of  a  man  of  culture  and  breeding.  He  is 
bored  in  manner  and  disillusioned  in  outlook.  He 
bows  gravely  and  courteously  to  Mrs.  Pole:  looks  in 
quiringly  at  Scowcroft;  then  gives  him  a  faint  glance 
of  recognition.] 

CHANDOS 

Mr.  Scowcroft? 

SCOWCROFT 

Philip  Chandos? 

•C  24  > 


:| 


HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 

Yes.      [They  shake  hands.] 

SCOWCROFT 

Yer  father  and  I  were  old  friends. 

CHANDOS 

-fiJmow. 

SCOWCROFT 

Years  ago. 

CHANDOS 

It  must  have  been.     He's  dead  twenty. 

SCOWCROFT 

No,  sir,  ten. 

CHANDOS 

Is  that  all?     It  seems  twenty. 

SCOWCROFT 

One  of  the  finest  men  of  his  day. 

CHANDOS 

So  they  tell  me. 

SCOWCROFT 

What  do  you  mean  — "  So  they  tell  you  "9 

CHANDOS 

Oh,  several  people  speak  nicely  of  him. 

SCOWCROFT 

Well? 

-C25  > 


HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 

They  didn't  have  to  live  with  him.     I  did. 

SCOWCROFT 

[^Sternly.]      It  would  be  a  good  thing  for  you  if  ye 
were  more  like  him. 

CHANDOS 

Think  so? 

6C0WCE0FT 

Yes,  I  do. 

CHANDOS 

I    don't.      [Crosses    to    Mrs.    Pole    and    greets    her 
•wearily.] 


I         ™' 


SCOWCEOFT 

Your  father  left  his  mark  on  his  time,  Mr.   Philip 
Chandos. 


CHANDOS 

know  he  did.     He  bled  his  time  for  all  he  could  j 
j        make  out  of  it. 

i 

SCOWCEOFT 

You  ought  not  to  kick.     He  left  you  pretty  well  off. 

/                                                                   CHANDOS  I 

I               I  don't  kick  about  that.     But  if  my  father  were  alive  \ 

I           today  and  practiced  the  same  methods  he  did  in  "  his  J 

?            time,"  he  would  die  in  the  penitentiary.     I've  lived  on  | 

I             the  proceeds  of  his  dishonesty.  1 

\                                                            -C   26   >  I 


HAPPINESS 

SCOWCEOFT 

That's  a  nice  way  to  speak  of  one  of  the  most  re- 
spected men  in  his  country. 

CHANDOS 

I  didn't  mean  to  be  nice.  I'm  carrying  his  burden,  and 
hundreds  like  me.  My  father  profited  by  his  roguery, 
then  he  married  and  brought  me  into  the  world  and  had 
all  the  glory  of  being  my  father.  I  have  all  the  reproach 
of  being  his  son.  And  I  suffer  every  day  of  my  life 
because  he  made  a  disreputable  fortune,  left  it  to  me  — 
and  nothing  else. 

SCOWCEOFT 

You're  a  fine  son. 

CHANDOS 

Am  I?  I  don't  think  so.  At  least,  I  don't  pretend 
to  be.  He  always  posed  as  a  good  father  —  and  he  got 
away  with  it. 

SCOWCROFT 

Well,  I'm  !  [Breaks  off.]  Oh,  there's  no  en- 
couragement today  in  bringing  children  into  the  world. 

CHANDOS 

I  know  there  isn't.  That's  why  so  many  have  given 
up  doing  it. 

SCOWCEOFT 

[Furiously."]     Bah ! 

<i7> 


HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 

[Quietly.']     Just    so.      [Turns    his    back    on    Scow- 
croft.] 

SCOWCROFT 

[To  Mrs.  Pole.]     Good-bye. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Good-bye,  father. 


SCOWCROFT 

^-   1  don't  know  what's  the  matter  with  young  people  to- 
day. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

The  trouble  is  they're  not  young,  father.     They  never    / 
have  been.     They're  born  old. 

""^^  SCOWCROFT 

[Scowling  at  Mrs.   Pole  and  Chandos.]     You're  a 
fine  pair  of  specimens ! 


MRS.    CHRYSTAIr-POLE 

[Smiles  sadly  up  at  him.']     Aren't  we? 

SCOWCROFT 

I'm  glad  your  mother  didn't  come. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAIi-POI*E 

[Quietly.]     So  am  I. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Goes   to   door,   turns   and  points    to   Chandos,   adf^ 
dressing  Mrs.  Pole.]      I  leave  him  to  you. 
-C  28  > 


HAPPINESS 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

As  a  legacy,  father? 

SCOWCROFT 

[Angrily.]     Bah!     [Goes  out  of  the  room.] 

CHANDOS 

[After    a    pause    looks    at    Mrs.    Pole.     They    both 
laugh.]     He  seems  angry. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

He  is.     About  us.     He  doesn't  approve  of  us. 

CHANDOS 

[With  a  comprehensive  gesture.]     Oh!     The  last  gen- 
eration! 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Rather  tough  on  the  present,  isn't  it? 

CHANDOS 

Very.     [Sight  and  walks  away,  dejectedly.] 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Watching  him.]     What's  the  trouble? 

CHANDOS 

I'd  like  a  chat.     You  understand  things. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Bothered? 

CHANDOS 

A  bit 

-C  29  3- 


HAPPINESS 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

All  right.     Let  us  talk. 

CHANDOS 

ISiU  on  couch,  near  her.]     I  was  in  court  today. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL.-POLE 

Yes.> 

CHANDOS 

I'm  free. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POI*E 
Oh. 

CHANDOS 

There  was  no  use  dragging  on. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POUE 

Of  course  not. 

CHANDOS 

She  would  never  have  got  rid  of  me.     So  I  had  to  get 
rid  of  her. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POL.E 

I  see. 

CHANDOS 

Wretched  mess  of  things,  isn't  it? 

MRS.    CHRYSTA1>P0LE 

Oh,  I  don't  know.     You  can  start  afresh. 
-C   30  > 


HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 

Oh,  no.  Once  is  enough.  [Thinks  for  a  moment: 
then  sighs  heavily.]  Lord!  When  ye  look  back!  Re- 
member the  weddin*.'' 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Distinctly. 

CHANDOS 

Pretty  bride,  wasn't  she? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  thought  so. 

CHANDOS 

I  wasn't  so  bad,  then.     [With  a  little  half -smile."] 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POUB 

You  looked  like  a  boy. 

CHANDOS 

And  my  old  dad!  All  over  the  place!  Proud  as  a 
peacock!  Strutting  about!  [Pause.]  God  Almighty! 
Makes  one  seem  a  hundred.  [Pause.]  What  a  muck  of 
things.  [Pause.]  Had  the  ball  at  my  feet  then,  hadn't 
I?  [Pause.]  Now  here  I  am  —  back  where  I  was. 
[Pause.]     What  a  mess! 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POIS 

We've  both  mashed  it  up,  haven't  we  ? 

CHANDOS 

Bather. 

-C  81   > 


HAPPINESS 

MKS.    CIIRYSTAL-POLE 

What'U  yon  do? 

CHANDOS 

Don't  know. 
Go  away? 
Think  not. 
Stay  around? 


MBS.    CHRYSTAL.-POLE 


CHANDOS 


MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POIiE 


CHANDOS 

I  suppose  SO.  Dodge  the  clubs  for  a  while  and  avoid" 
the  restaurants.  People  forget.  Other  scandals  come 
along  and  push  your  own  out.  Everybody  forgets  every- 
thing, if  ye  give  *em  time.  [Pause.'\  Then  I'll  blossom 
out  some  day  when  it's  all  over.  [Pause. 1  After  all, 
it's  just  a  milestone.  Ar bit  of  life  chopped  off.  A  few 
more  dead  years  to  look  back  on.  An  infinity  of  dreary 
ones  to  look  forward  to. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  know  that  feeling,     I've  had  it  often. 

CHANDOS 

Have  ye? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Oh,  often. 

<  32  3- 


HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 

What  do  you  do  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Nothing.     Just  let  it  have  its  own  way. 

CHANDOS 

So  do  I.     Then  I  start  off  huntin*  again^ 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

For  what.^ 

CHANDOS 

Happiness. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Do  you  ever  find  it? 

CHANDOS 

I  haven't  so  far. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Do  you  hope  to? 

CHANDOS 

Sometimes  —  when      the      mornin's      bright.     I      get 
spasms  of  optimism  now  and  again. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  envy  you. 

CHANDOS 

I  haven't  had  one  for  a  long  time.     It's  about  due. 
Maybe  tomorrow  —  if  the  sun  is  shinin*. 
-C  83  > 


HAPPINESS 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  don't  remember  one  since  I  was  a  girl. 

CHANDOS 

That  so? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-rOLE 

After  all,  what  is  this  thing  we  call  life?  Wliat  does 
it  mean  to  us  who  are  supposed  to  have  everything  we 
want?  One  grey  day  after  another.  We  start  afresh 
every  morning  with  a  round  of  empty,  futile  occupations. 
At  night  we  go  to  a  restless  sleep  —  with  nothing  ac- 
complished. What  is  our  one  ambition?  What  are  we 
jail  striving  for?     To  kill  time. 

i  CHANDOS 

Well,  we  have  one  consolation.  It  we  don't  succeed  — 
time  will  —  in  killing  us. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

\   That's  about  all  there  is  to  look  forward  to.     We're 
a  useless  lot,  Phil. 

CHANDOS 

I  know  I  am. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Take  my  case :  my  father's  worked  all  his  life  — 

CHANDOS 

So  did  mine. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAIy-POLE 

My  mother's  never  done  anything. 
-C   34   > 


HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 


Nor  did  mine. 


MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Both  are  of  the  earth.  What  was  my  upbringing? 
Everything  done  for  me  by  servants.  I  used  to  see  my 
parents  a  few  minutes  a  day.  Then  they'd  be  too  tired 
to  give  me  any  attention.  Just  caresses  that  meant 
nothings  My  father  passed  his  life  making  money.  My 
mother  spending  it.  The  only  people  who  visited  us 
were  gi^eedy,  grasping,  hard-headed  business  men,  or 
foolish,  stupid,  chattering  idiots.  As  I  grew  older,  any- 
thing I  wanted  I  was  given  without  question  or  restraint. 
Everything  came  to  me  without  an  effort.  Think  of  my 
girlhood.  I  liked  music.  I  was  taken  to  concerts  and 
recitals  and  operas  until  I  was  weary  of  them.  The 
theatre!  I  went  until  I  knew  every  trick.  AiH:l»e-ilIu- 
sjjiB^XiBt.  I  wanted  to  travel.  By  twenty-one  I  had 
been  dragged  all  over  Europe  until  the  screech  of  a 
train  or  the  scream  of  a  ship's  horn  disgusted  me.  I>w«&- 
thft-4«dcT-one  ^f- fortune.  I  craved  for  money.  A  re- 
lation died  and  left  me  an  independence.  Everything 
I've  longed  for  I've  had.  And  always  without  a  strug- 
gle! And  everything  has  disappointed  me.  At  twenty- 
three  I  married.  Hunted  happiness  again.  He  was  the 
catch  of  the  year.  My  luck  seemed  to  hold  good.  In 
three  months  I  loatlied  him.  A  year  ago  —  or  less  — 
he  died.  For  a  while  I  breathed  freely.  Now  I  am  once 
more  on  the  hunt  —  as  you  are. 

-C  8«  3- 


HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 

And  I'm  a  shockin*  bad  hunter. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

So  am  I.     The  quarry  eludes  me  just  as  I  try  to  grasp 
it.      [Both  sigh,  then  look  at  each  other  and  laugh.] 

CHANDOS 

Your  father  is  right.     We're  a  fine  pair. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Rises  and  walks  about. ] 

CHANDOS 

Any  plans  tonight? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 

CHANDOS 

Let's  go  somewhere? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Stay  here,  if  you  like. 

CHANDOS 

Too  restless  for  that.     Let  us  go  and  watch  the  others 
worryin'.     Take  our  minds  off  ourselves. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Where? 

CHANDOS 

I  don't  care.     Any  of  ten. 

<  36  y 


HAPPINESS 

MRS.    CHKYSTAL-POI,E 

I  thought  you  didn't  want  to  be  seen? 

CHANDOS 

Doesn't  matter  tonight.  I'll  look  *em  over  for  the 
last  time  —  for  a  while. 

MES.    CHRYSTAI^POUE 

All  right. 

CHANDOS 

Kind  of  farewell  dinner,  eh? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. 

CHANDOS 

I'll  go  round  and  dress  and  come  back  and  call  for 
you. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I'll  be  ready.  [Telephone  rings.  Takes  up  receiver."] 
Hello.  [Pause,]  Yes.  [Pause.]  What  is  it?  [Pause.] 
Oh!  Send  them  up.  [Hangs  up  receiver.  Looks  up 
smilingly  at  Chandgs.]     This  is  really  an  event, 

CHANDOS 

Oh? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAI/-POLE 
A  new  dress. 

CHANDOS 

From  Paris? 

■C  «7  3- 


HAPPINESS 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Shudders."]  Good  heavens,  no!  The  dresses  they 
send  us  are  only  worn  by  cocottes  in  France.  This  is 
an  experiment  with  a  new  dressmaker.  If  it's  a  success, 
I'll  wear  it  tonight. 

CHANDOS 

Do.     Your  eyes  are  brighter. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Are  they? 

CHANDOS 

And  there's  a  gleam  of  color  in  your  face. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes? 

CHANDOS 

Excited? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Almost. 

CHANDOS 

Splendid.     [Pause.']     I  wish  I  could  get  a  thrill. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  said  it  was  an  event. 

CHANDOS 

You're  lucky. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Fancy,  feeling  a  new  dress  here.    [Touches  her  heart.] 
-C   38   > 


HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 

[Nods.]     I  know. 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POI4E 

Significant,  isn't  it? 

CHANDOS 

Yes. 

MES.    CHEYSTAL-POLE 

[Smile S.I     We  are  a  fine  pair. 

CHANDOS 

[Goes  to  door.]     About  half  an  hour.^ 

MES.    CHETSTAL-POL.E 

Heaps  of  time. 

CHANDOS 

I  hope  it  will  be  a  success. 

MES.    CHEYSTAL-POLE 

So  do  I. 

CHANDOS 

Round  off  the  evening,  won't  it  ? 

MES.    CHBYSTAIi-POLE 

Yes.     [Knock  on  the  door.] 

[Chandos  opens  it  and  admits  Jenny,  a  shop-girl, 
carrying  two  large  boxes,  one  containing  a  dress  mid 
the  other  a  hat.  She  is  a  small,  thin,  shahb;/  girl  of 
nineteen  with  keen  bright  eyes,  a  quiet,  rapid  deliv- 
ery and  a  whole-hearted,  healthy,  exuberant  manner.] 
-C  89  3- 


HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

[Looking  up  at  Chandos.]     Mrs.  Chrystal-Polc  ? 

CHANDOS 

[Indicates  Mrs.  Pole.] 

JENNY 

[Plumps  the  parcels  down.]     Breakin'  both  my  arms. 

CHANDOS 

Half  an  hour.      [Going  out.] 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Like  to  look  at  them.^ 

CHANDOS 

[In  doorway.]     Not  now.     I'll  wait  and  see  them  on 
you.     It  mat/  be  an  event  for  me.     [Goes  out.] 

[Jenny  stands  waiting  for  instructions,  hands  on  hips, 
balancing  on  one  foot,  in  the  attitude  of  one  who  has 
to  stand  all  day.] 

•*     '  MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Open   them   out.     I'll   call   you   when    I    want   you. 
[Goes  into  the  other  room.] 

[Jenny  undoes  the  bundles,  humming  vigorously  all  the 
time.  She  takes  the  hat  out  first  and  looks  at  it  with 
a  gasp  of  joy.  Then  she  takes  out  the  dress.  She 
stares  at  it  with  wide  open  eyes.  She  thinks  a  mo- 
ment, then  listens  intently  —  makes  up  her  mind, 
throws  off  her  jacket  and  slips  the  dress  on.  She 
-C  40  >        . 


HAPPINESS 

laughs  gleefully,  whips  off  her  hat  and  puts  on  the 
new  one  and  runs  to  the  mirror  to  see  her  reflection. 
Mrs.  Pole  comes  in  quietly  behind  her  and  stands 
looking  at  her.  Jenny  see's  Mrs.  Pole  in  the  mirror; 
the  looks  at  her  in  horror,  then  turns  guiltily,  snatches 
off  the  hat  and  begins  struggling  to  get  out  of  the 
dress.] 

JENNY 

[Huskily."]     I  beg  your  pardon,  lady. 

MRS.    CHKYSTAI^-POLE 

How  dare  you  put  those  things  on  ? 

JENNY 

I  just  couldn't  help  it.  I'd  never  had  a  four-hundred- 
dollar  dress  on  me  back  before,  or  a  hundred-dollar  hat 
on  me  head.     I  just  couldn't  help  it. 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Take  them  back.     I  don't  want  them. 

JENNY 

[Gives  a  little  gasp.]  Oh!  [Piteously.]  Don't  do 
that,  lady.  Please  don't  do  that.  They'd  turn  me 
away. 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Take  them  back.  [Goes  to  table,  sits  and  writes  a 
letter.] 

[Jenny  watches  her;  her  lips  quivering,  her  eyes  filling . 
She  struggles  out  of  the  dress,  folds  it  and  begins  to 

■C  41  3- 


HAPPINESS 

put  it  hack  in  the  box.  She  is  crying  quietly.  Sud- 
denly a  sob  escapes  her.  Mrs.  Pole  turns  and  looks 
at  her.  Jenny  wipes  her  eyes  stealthily  with  the 
back  of  her  hand.  She  puts  the  hat  in  the  box  and 
begins  to  cover  it  with  the  lid.  Mrs.  Pole  walks 
over  to  her  and  stands  looking  down  at  her.  Jenny 
shrinks  down  and  lowers  her  eyes.} 

JENNY 

I  know  I  oughtn't  to  have  done  it.  [Sob.}  Couldn't 
ye  let  me  off  this  once?  [iSob.]  I'll  never  do  such  a 
thing  again.  [Sob.]  Really  I  won't.  [Sob.]  Couldn't 
ye  —  let  —  me  —  off  —  this  —  once  —  lady  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Give  it  me. 

JENNY 

[Hurriedly  takes  out  the  hat  and  hands  it  to  Mrs. 
Pole.  She  is  half -laughing,  half-crying.]  Oh,  thank 
ye,  lady.     Thank  ye. 

[Mrs.  Pole  takes  the  hat,  goes  to  the  mirror  and  puts 
it  on.] 

JENNY 

[Gleefully  takes  out  the  dress,  snuffling  back  her  tears 
and  chuckling  with  relief.  She  goes  to  Mrs.  Pole  and 
stands  looking  at  her,  mouth  open,  eyes  fixed  soulfully 
on  the  hat.]     My !  —  It's  —  it's  wonderful !  —  On  you! 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

It's  too  long  this  side. 

-C   42   > 


HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

[Quickly.']  Do  ye  think  so?  It  suits  yonr  long  style. 
'Anyone  can  wear  them  skimpy  ones.  Very  few  ladies 
could  wear  that.  [Pause.  Then  in  a  tone  of  awed  ad- 
miration.']    I  think  it's  wonderful. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[A  little  more  interested.]      Rather  becoming. 

JENNY 

It's  a  dream  —  I  think. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAI.-POLE 

Bring  the  dress  in  here.  [Goes  out,  leaving  the  door 
open.] 

JENNY 

[Gathert  the  dress  up  and  follows  her  out.]  I  don't 
know  what  came  over  me,  presumin'  to  put  that  on.  It 
just  seemed  to  scream  out  at  me  "Try  it!**  I'm  so 
sorry,  lady. 

MBS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

That  will  do. 

JENNY 

Yes,  lady,  and  thank  ye.  There  we  are.  Step  into 
It.  The  right  foot.  Now  the  left.  Thnt'»  it.  Say, 
it's  a  wonder.  I  forgot  the  chiffon.  [Hurries  back  into 
the  room,  snuffling  and  trying  to  sing.  She  takes  the 
chiffon  from  the  table  and  her  handkerchief  from  the 
pocket  of  her  jacket  and  goes  back,  wiping  her  eyes.] 


HAPPINESS 

MRS.    CJftRYSTAL-POLE 

I'll  go  in  the  next  room.     There's  more  light  in  there 
-^and  the  glass  is  bigger. 

[They  both  come  back  into  the  room.  Mrs.  Pole  has 
the  dress  on  and  stands  in  front  of  the  mirror  while 
Jenny  hooks  it  up.'\ 

JENNY 

Looks  as  if  ye  was  poured  into  it.     Say,  it  is  swell. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Severely.']     Please  don't  talk. 

JENNY 

No,  lady!     [Proceeds  to  button  the  dress."] 

MRS,    CHRYSTAL-POL-E 

Take  care.     You're  pinching  me. 

JENNY 

Only  me  fingers  in  the  way.     Clumsy!     [Mrs.  Pole 
gives  a  cry.]     It's  got  to  fit  tight. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I'll  finish  it  myself. 

jeUny 
All  right,  lady.      [Walks  round  Mrs.   Pole,  looking 
at  the  dress.]      It  is  chic,  ain't  it.'' 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Spread  the  train. 

-C   44   > 


HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

Yes,  lady.  [Kneels  down  and  spreads  the  train  owf.] 
I'm  glad  the  trains  are  comin'  back.  Makes  the  big 
ones  ever  so  tall,  and  gives  the  little  ones  height.  That's 
about  it.  [Rises,  and  stands  hack,  hands  on  hips,  look- 
ing at  the  effect.']  My!  You  do  look  like  a  queen. 
You'll  just  drive  'em  crazy,  that's  what  ye'U  do. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Tell  your  employers  on  the  whole  I  am  pleased. 

JENNY 

Sure,  I  will.  They'll  be,  too.  Everybody  worried 
over  it.  It's  a  dandy  colour.  Say,  d'ye  know  what  it 
wants .^     A  necklace, —  have  you  got  a  necklace.'* 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POIiE 

Yes.  Bring  me  my  jewel-box.  It's  on  the  table  in 
the  next  room. 

JENNY 

Mef 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POUE 

Yes. 
[Jenny  hurries  into  the  next  room,  humming  vigorously.] 

JENNY 

[From  within  the  room.]     Is  it  a  black  box?. 

MBS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. 

-C  45  > 


HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

[Comes  hach  with  a  large,  black  jewel-box.]     This  it? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. 

JENNY 

—    [Chuckles.]     I    thought   it   was   a   valise.      [Goes   to 
Mrs.  Pole  and  holds  the  jewel-box  up  to  her.] 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Open  it. 

JENNY 

Me,  lady? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAIi-POLE 

Yes. 

JENNY 

[Goes  to  table;  opens  box;  glares  at  the  contents  with 
startled  eyes;  sinks  down,  gasping,  on  a  chair.]  Oh,  my 
Gawd! 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[hooks  across  at  her.] 

JENNY 

I  never  saw  so  many  in  me  life. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Come,  come !      [Impatiently.] 

JENNY 

[Goes  to  Mrs.  Pole  with  the  open  box.] 
-C  46  > 


HAPPINESS 

MBS.    CHKYSTAIi-POLB 

Choose  one! 

JENNY 

Me? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Irritably.]     Yes. 

JENNY 

[Hunts  through  the  contents  of  the  box.]  What  about 
that  one?  It  looks  fine!  [Hands  Mrs.  Pole  a  neck- 
lace; then  stares  at  the  jewels  again  without  daring  to 
touch  them.] 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Having  fastened  the  necklace.]  You  are  right.  It 
is  better. 

JENNY 

Have  a  green  one  at  your  waist? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes.     Give  me  the  emerald  clasp. 

JENNY 

[Searches  and  finds  it  and  holds  it  out  to  Mrs.  Pole.] 
Real  emeralds? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAIi-POLE 

Yes.     [Taking  the  clasp  and  fastening  it.] 

JENNY 

Are  they  all  real? 

<*7> 


HAPPINESS 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 


They  are. 


JENNY 

I've  never  seen  so  many  before, —  only  in  shop-win- 
dows.    Never  had  a  chance  to  touch  'em.      [Laughs  a 
'little  eerie  laugh.']     Fancy  ownin'  'em!     Don't  ye  feel 
frightened  } 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 

JENNY 

I  would.     Look  at  that  one, —  it's  winkin*  at  me ! 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Close  the  box.     Put  it  on  the  table. 

JENNY 

Yes,  lady.  [Places  jewel-box  carefully  on  the  table 
and  closes  it;  then  hurries  back,  humming  cheerfully  and 
arranges  pleats  in  the  dress,  beaming  with  satisfaction.] 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Stop  humming! 

JENNY 

Yes,  lady. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Satisfied  with  the  effect,  gives  a  little,  pleased  sigh.] 
Ah! 

-C  48  :}. 


HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

[In  an  awed  tone.l  You've  got  *em  all  beat.  Nothin* 
like  that  this  season  —  or  any  other. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I'll  keep  it. 

JENNY 

I  should  say  so. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAI^POLE 

Tell  them  not  to  duplicate  it. 

JENNY 

I  should  say  not, 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

That  will  do. 

JENNY 

[Chuckles  contentedly.]     You  do  look  happy.    ""^ 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Turns  slowly  round  and  looks  curiously  at  her.^  Do 
I? 

JENNY 

Sure  ye  do.  An*  why  shouldn't  ye  be  ?  It's  one  thing 
to  be  pretty,  an'  another  to  have  the  price  to  show  it  off. 
Ye've  got  both.  Ye're  beautiful  and  ye've  got  the  price. 
[Sighs.]  I  beg  your  pardon.  [Takes  up  her  hat  and 
thick  coat  and  shabby  gloves.] 

MK8.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Are  you  happy? 

-C   *9  > 


HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

""^      Oh,  yes.     So  long  as   I   please  the  customers.     An' 
you  are  pleased,  ain't  ye? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. 

JENNY 

[Putting  on  her  hat.]  I'm  so  glad.  I  thought  I'd 
lost  me  job  sure!  [Puts  on  coat.]  But  you're  kind, 
as  well  as  beautiful,  ain't  ye? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

How  much  do  you  earn  a  week? 

JENNY 

.^       [Enthusiastically ,    as    if    mentioning    a    very    large 
amount.]     Six  dollars! 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Do  you  live  at  home? 

JENNY 

[Nods;  pulls  on  a  glove.]  Mother  an'  me  —  in  Brook- 
lyn. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Is  your  father  alive? 

JENNY 

I  don't  know. 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 
Oh? 

-C   50   > 


HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

I  don't  think  so.  Don't  see  how  he  could  be.  Ye 
know,  he  went  out  to  work  one  morning  and  never  came 
back.  The  police  said  he  was  made  away  with.  Lots 
are,  ye  know.  Never  heard  of.  But  mother  won't  be- 
lieve it.  She  says  he'll  come  back  some  day.  She 
thinks  he  was  just  hurt  somewhere  —  not  killed.  So 
she's  always  hoping. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Showing  a  little  more  interest.'^  How  long  ago  did 
that  happen? 

JENNY 

Oh,  ten  years  ago.  I  was  only  a  kid.  We  had  a  nice 
house  then.  After  father  disappeared,  mother  went  out 
to  work,  dress-makin',  an'  brought  me  up  to  it  —  an' — 
we  have  a  fine  little  home  —  and  —  [breaks  off].  Here, 
I  mustn't  go  on  talkin'  to  you  — 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Go  on  talking.     Unless  you  have  to  go. 

JENNY 

Oh,  no.  The  shop's  closed  now  —  if  ye  want  any- 
thing altered  though,  I  can  call  'em  up  and  they'll  stay. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  don't.     It's  perfect. 

JENNY 

[Standing  wearily,  first  on  one  foot,  then  on  the  other, 
looks  again   admiringly   at   the   dress.]     It's   a   dream, 
-C   51    > 


HAPPINESS 

I    think.     Finest    our    firm's    turned    out.     IStifles    a 
yawn.'] 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

You're  tired. 

Y.^^--  JENNY 

A  bit. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Sit  down. 

JENNY 

But, —  lady  — 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Sit  down. 

JENNY  I 

[Sits,  nervously,  looking  shyly  at  Mrs.  Pole.]  Thank 
ye.  [Smiles  up  at  Mrs.  Pole.]  It  does  tire  ye,  stand- 
in'  all  day. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE  j 

How  long  do  you  work.''  ' 

JENNY 

Eight  to  six.  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Shocked.]     For  six  dollars? 

JENNY 

Oh,  that's  good  pay.     I  only  got  four  when  I  started.        | 

r  MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

How  much  does  your  mother  earn.^  i 

-C   52   >  ^ 


HAPPINESS 

^  JENNY 

^K.  Nothin*  reg'lar.  Some  weeks  as  much  as  fifteen  — 
^^■hers  nothin'.  All  depends.  She  hasn't  got  a  steady 
^Kb  now. 

I 


MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POl-E 

But  how  do  you  live  ? 

JENNY 

Oh,  fine.  I've  got  everything  I  want.  So's  motheiT 
— 'cept  when  she  worries  about  father.  Then  she  goes 
on  the  cars  lookin'  for  him. 


P  MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

What? 

JENNY 

Ye  see,  she  thinks  he  got  his  head  hurt  somehow  and 
forgot  us.  No  one  can  make  her  believe  he's  dead.  So 
every  time  she  gets  on  a  street-car  or  the  subway,  she 
goes  right  down  through  the  cars  lookin'  at  all  the  men. 
[Sighs.]  Poor  mother.  When  she  has  a  good  week  she 
spends  hours  that  way.  [Dejectedli/.]  And  it  costs  her 
a  nickel  every  time  she  gets  on  one.  An'  she  comes 
home  all  tired  an'  kind  o'  quiet-like.  Never  says  any- 
thing. Then  I  make  her  take  some  supper  and  put  her 
to  bed  an'  she's  fine  in  the  mornin'. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Looks  down  at  her  wonderingly ;  following  a  womanly 
instinct  she  puts  her  hand  gently  on  Jenny'«  shoulder.] 

-C  s«  > 


HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

l^StarU  Mjp.]     Want  me  to  go? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Sit  still.  [Presses  her  back  on  the  sofa  and  sHs  he- 
side  her.]  What  are  you  both  looking  forward  to.-*  You 
and  your  mother? 

JENNY 

l^Puzzled.']      Looking  forward  to? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. 

JENNY  ,  ♦ 

Oh,  all  kinds  of  things.  When  I  know  the  business 
real  well  and  better  myself,  I'm  goin'  to  save  up  and 
have  a  place  of  my  own,  an'  mother'll  look  after  every- 
thing and  just  work  when  she  feels  like  it.  An'  she 
can  travel  up  an'  down  on  the  cars  all  day  if  she  wants 
to.  [Regretfully. 1  Though  I  do  wish  she  didn't.  It 
seems  so  wasteful  like.  An'  it  ends  in  nothin',  an'  she's 
so  miserable  afterwards.  Do  you  know,  lady,  up  to  the 
time  I  went  to  work  /  used  to  look  at  men  and  wonder 
if  I'd  find  him.  Sometimes  I'd  ask  them  if  they  ever 
lived  in  Brooklyn  and  had  a  wife  an'  kid  there.  Hon- 
est, I  did.  Sounds  crazy,  doesn't  it?  Mother  got  it 
into  me.  I  feel  the  same  way  now  —  at  times.  [Cheer- 
fully.'\     But  it  doesn't  last  long.     I  know  he's  dead. 

MRS.    CHRYSTALrPOLE 

Do  you? 

-C   51   >    . 


HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

Sure.  He  wouldn't  stay  away  all  this  time  if  he  was 
alive.  He  liked  my  mother  too  much.  And  me.  Oil, 
no.     He's  dead  right  enough. 

MES.    CHEYSTAI>-P03-E 

You  poor  little  thing!  [Takes  one  of  Jenny's  hands 
in  both  of  hers.] 

JENNY 

[Slowly  talcing  her  hand  away. J  Oh,  I'm  all  right, 
lady.  I'm  very  healthy  an'  very  strong.  Of  course, 
I'm  small  to  look  at,  bat  I'm  really  very  big  inside.  Ye 
know,  I  feel  big.  Did  ye  ever  see  a  little  dog  that 
thought  be  was  a  great,  big  bloodhound?  That*s  me. 
I'te  got  ^reating^  tlrottghts.  I  know  I'm  go  in'  to  be 
very  successful  some  day.  Mother  knows  I  am,  too. 
[Running  along  excitedly.']  We've  heaps  to  look  for- 
ward to.  Heaps.  We  stay  up  o*  nights  planniu'  it  all 
out.  Y«  know  I'm  only  wi>rki«- iJW-vsy~willi  tfc3r-firm, 
leamin*.  See?  When  I  can  dress  a  bit  better,  I'm 
goin'  in  the  fittin*  room.  Ye  meet  more  people  there. 
An*  they  pay  ye  better,  too.  I'm  promised  that.  (That's 
why  I  was  all  broke  up  just  now  —  when  you  —  you 
know?  An*  I  deserved  it,  too.  It  was  nice  of  ye  not  to 
send  me  back.  I'd  liave  been  chucked  —  sure.  I  was 
scared.  It's  taught  me  somethin' — I  can  tell  ye. 
[Pause.]  But  I  did  want  to  see  myself  in  a  real  swell 
dress  —  just  once!  [Laughs.]  I  can't  carry  it  olF  like 
you  can,  can  I?  You  know  you've  got  to  be  born  for  a 
dress  like  that. 

-C  as  3- 


HAPPINESS 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Do  you  read  and  write  ? 

JENNY 

Oh,  yes.  I  went  through  public  school.  Did  real  well, 
too,  'cept  in  'rithmetic.  I  hate  figures.  'Course  I  know 
I  don't  talk  well.  No  one  does  in  our  part  of  Brooklyn. 
But  by-and-bye  I'm  goin'  to  take  up  night  school  and 
learn  to  talk  like  some  o'  the  customers.  [Laughs.'] 
They  sounded  awfully  funny  at  first.  Now  I  like  it. 
It's  wonderfully  educatin',  workin'  in  a  store.  Ye  know 
ye  see  all  kinds.  I'm  sorry  for  them  as  works  in  fac- 
tories an*  places  where  they  don't  meet  real  people.  Ye 
know,  the  ones  that  can  afford  gowns  like  that,  an'  speak 
nice,  like  you  do.  [Pause;  looks  at  her  admiringly.] 
You  must  be  awfully  happy.  [Sighs.]  It's  wonderful 
to  be  real  happy.  I  am  —  sometimes.  When  I've 
everything  all  built  up  in  my  mind.  I  love  to  dream 
out  all  I'm  goin'  to  do.  [Pause;  shyly.]  I'm  happy 
now, —  talkin' to  you.  [Laughs  confusedly.]  Gee!  Ye 
have  let  me  run  on,  gabbin'. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  like  to  listen  to  you.  I'm  glad  to  think  you  are 
happy  —  sometimes.  /  am  the  most  unhappy  woman  in 
this  city  tonight. 

JENNY 

[Wide-eyed.]     Are  ye? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

^Wretched. 


HAPPINESS 

JENNY 


Why? 


MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  have  nothing  to  sit  up  at  night  for  and  plan.  I've 
no  father  to  seek.  I  know  where  he  is.  And  I  don't 
love  him.  I'm  wretched  because  I've  everything  I  don't 
want  and  nothing  I  do. 

JENNY 

What  do  ye  want  most,  lady  .'* 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

What  every  human  being  does  —  happiness. 

JENNY 

[Thoughtfully.']  I  know.  Things  to  go  your  way,  an* 
when  they  don't,  it  jolts  ye.  I  know  that.  {Bright- 
eningJ]  But  I  always  feel  if  ye  don't  get  it  one  way  ye 
do  another.  If  I'd  lost  this  place,  I  might  have  got  a 
better  one.  It's  all  in  the  day.  So  what's  the  use  of 
worryin'  ?     Seems  to  me  the  best  thing  is  to  go  right  on. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

We've  got  to  do  that  —  go  right  on. 

JENNY 

Do  ye  know  what  I  think  happiness  is  really? — • 
Looktn*  forward! 

,.„ MRS.    CHRYSTAIy-POLE 

That's  all  it  is.  Looking  forward.  And  I've  nothing 
to  look  forward  to. 

-C  57  3- 


HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

You're  jokin'!     Ain't  ye? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 

JENNY 

Why,  what  are  all  the  fine  people  goin'  to  say  when 
they  see  ye  in  that  dress?  Eh?  [Laughs.]  They'll 
cry  their  eyes  out  with  envy  —  that  they  will.  Won't 
that  make  ye  happy? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Not  in  the  least. 

JENNY 

My,  but  you're  queer.  That's  all  our  customers  think 
about  —  what  the  other  people'll  think.  I  know  rd  like 
to  have  fine  things  if  only  to  see  what  the  others  did 
when  they  caught  me  in  them.  How  they'd  look! 
"  Shabby  Jenny  "  they  calls  me.  They'd  open  their 
eyes  if  they  ever  saw  me  "  dolled  up." 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

And  would  that  make  you  happy? 

JENNY 

For  a  bit.  They  don't  give  me  much  chance  —  the 
girls  at  the  shop.  Cruel,  some  of  'em.  Laugh  at  me. 
Think  I'm  queer.  An*  they  say  father  ran  away  from 
mother  an'  me.  An*  they  don't  blame  him.  They  say 
anyone  would  run  away  from  me  an'  mother  an*  Brook- 
-C   58  > 


HAPPINESS 

lyn.  'Course  it  hurts  at  the  time.  But  I  don't  really 
mind  it.  They  don't  know  what  I'm  thinkin*.  Do 
they?  That's  what  mother  an'  me  always  comforts  our- 
selves with.  Yer  thoughts  are  yer  own.  I'te  got  to 
stand  about  an'  run  about  from  eight  to  six,  an'  do  what 
they  tell  me,  but  they  don't  know  what  I'm  thinkin*  all 
the  time.  Why,  ye  can  be  a  queen  —  in  yer  mind  in  a 
1  four-dollar  dress  an'  a  cheap  hat.  An'  some  queens  can't 
be  as  happy  —  that's  what  mother  says. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

What  recreations  have  you? 

JENNY 

Recreation  ?     Holiday  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POUE 

Yes. 

JENNY 

Oh,  Sunday.     That's  a  great  day.     I  don't  get  up  till 

j  nine  o'clock  Sunday  mornings.     Nine  o'clock!     An*  we 

I   always  have  chicken  and  cake  for  dinner.     Always  — 

I  chicken  and  cake.     An'  when  mother's  had  a  good  week, 

go  to  a  movin'-picture  show  in  the  evenin*.     Not  the 

ap  ones.     We  don't  like  them.     Why,  all  the  girls  in 

m  that  only  got  six  dollars  a  week  went  wrong.     An' 

should  see  the  fellows  they  went  wrong  with!     Bald 

ids  an'  fat  stomachs!     Silly,  /  call  'em.     I  want  to 

1  you  the  girls  at  the  store  are  not  that  kind  at  all. 

.   They're  very  particular  who  they  go  out  with.     Them 

'  kind  of  pictures  are  no  good.     We  like  the  ones  about 

-c «» > 


HAPPINESS 

travelin'  an*  huntin*  an'  the  coronation  —  you  know- 
all  them  funny  people  in  uniforms.  We  love  them. 
They're  so  educatin'.  [Stops  to  take  breath;  suddenly 
bursts  out  again  as  a  new  thought  comes  to  her.]  Oh! 
An'  I'm  learnin'  French,  too ! 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

French  ^ 

JENNY 

There's  a  French  woman  at  the  store  I  do  things  for's 
teachin'  me.  She  says  I'll  learn  it  quicker  than  I  will 
good  English,  'cause  me  ear  ain't  spoilt.  Oh,  I  mustn't 
complain.  There's  an  awful  lot  to  do,  if  ye  take  the 
trouble  to  find  out. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAI,-POLE 

I  suppose  there  is.  I  wish  I*d  started  like  you;  with 
your  outlook. 

JENNY 

[Laughs  shyly."]     Oh,  don't  be  silly. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Then  I  wouldn't  be  looking  back  all  the  time.  I'd 
be  pressing  forward.  [Looks  at  Jenny  intently;  then 
puts  both  hands  on  Jenny's  shoulders.]  I'd  like  to 
have  some  one  like  you  near  me  —  just  now. 

JENNY 

What  for?     To  laugh  at.? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAIi-POLE 

No.     As  a  ballast. 

-c  60 :}. 


HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

As  a  what?  [Laughs.]  I  don't  know  what  you 
mean,  lady. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I'm  at  a  loose  end.  I'm  rattled.  I*m  out  of  touch 
with  myself  and  the  world.  /  want  to  plan  things !  To 
look  ahead;  to  have  faith  in  life.  An  hour  ago  I  had 
nothing  to  look  forward  to  —  nothing.  You've  roused 
me.  If  you  can  be  happy  with  nothing  why  shouldn't  / 
be  with  everything? 

JENNY 

What  are  ye  drivin'  at,  lady? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Help  me,  and  I'll  help  you.  Give  me  of  your  ew 
thusiasm  —  your  faith  —  your  philosophy.  You  seem  to 
see  light  where  I  find  only  darkness;  beauty,  where  I 
know  only  the  hateful;  the  wonderful  that  to  me  is  but 
the  ordinary.  Help  me  to  become  a  useful,  human  crea- 
ture, and  I'll  help  you. 

JENNY 

But  what  do  you  want  me  to  do  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAI/-POLE 

Give  me  of  your  courage,  your  truth,  your  loyalty  and 
your  resolution.     Will  you? 

JENNY 

I'd  have  to  ask  mother  first. 

V    ,  -C  61  3- 


L/^^ 


HAPPINESS 

l^Enter  Chandos  in  evening  dress.  Both  of  the  women 
rise,  Jenny  draws  back,  watching  them  wonder- 
ingly.] 

CHANDOS 

[Advances  to  Mrs.  Pole,  looking  in  admiration  at  the 
dress .  ]     Wonder  f  ul ! 

MES.    CHRYSTAI^POUE 

Is  it? 

CHANDOS 

Marvellous ! 

MRS.    CHRYSTAIi-POLB 

Rags,  my  dear  Phil.     Just  rags. 

CHANDOS 

Their  setting  is  magnificent.     Shall  we  start? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POUE 

Where? 

CHANDOS 

To  my  "  farewell  dinner." 

MRS.    CHRYSTAIi-POUB 

No.     I'll  dine  here. 

CHANDOS 

Why? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Oh,  I  don't  know.      [Touches  her  forehead.]     Things 
have  all  changed  here.     What  a  rotter  I've  been !     What 
-C  62  > 


HAPPINESS 

La-  rotter!     [Suddenly   to  Jenny.]     Will  you  stay  and 
dine  with  me? 

JENNY 

[Confusedly.]     Thank  ye,  lady.     I  can't. 

MRS.    CHBYSTAIi-POLE 

Why  not? 

JENNY 

Mother*ll  be  waitin'. 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLB 

Can't  you  stay  out  for  once? 

JENNY 

[Hurriedly.]     Oh,  no!     I  couldn't  do  that.     She's  all 
alone. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Don't  you  ever  stay  out? 

JENNY 

No:     She's  all  alone. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POIJi 

Send  for  her. 

JENNY 

It  would  take  too  long.     Besides,  she  mightn't  like  it. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Do  as  I  tell  you.     Write  her  address.     I'll  send  for 
her. 

-C  68  > 


HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

But  suppose  she  won't  come?     She*s  very  proud,  is 
mother. 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

She'd  come  for  you? 

JENNY 

Oh,  anywhere. 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Indicating  desk.]     Sit  down  there  and  write  her  that 
you  want  her  to  come.      [Pause.]     Do  it. 

JENNY 

[Hesitates;  then  goes   to   the  desJc,  sits  and  writes, 
protesting  as  she  goes.]      But  she  may  not  come. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[To  Chandos.]     Will  you  stay? 

CHANDOS 

With  pleasure. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Do  you  mind  sitting  at  the  same  table  with  that  girl 
and  her  mother  ? 

CHANDOS 

Why,  of  course  not;  but  I  thought  — 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Goes    to    telephone.]     Wait.     Hello.     Give    me    the 
restaurant.     [Pause.]     Is  that  the  restaurant?     [Pause.] 
I  want  the  head-waiter.     [Pause.]     Head-waiter?    This 
-C  64  > 


HAPPINESS 

is  Mrs.  Pole.  Apartment  512.  Serve  dinner  up  here 
in  three-quarters  of  an  hour  foij  four.  [Pause.]  I 
leave  it  to  you. 

CHANDOS 

[Protestingli/.]     Don't  leave  it  to  a  head-waiter  — 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Sssh!     [Silences  Chandos,  then  talks  into  the  tele 
phone.]     Yes.     Anything  will  do.     Anything  at  all. 

CHANDOS 

[Indignantly.]     Anything!     My  farewell  — 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Stops  him  again.]     And  listen  —  I  say,  listen.     Ask 
them    to    send    someone    up    at    once.     Yes,    at    once. 
f.  Thank  you.     [Hangs  up  receiver.     To  Jenny.]     Is  it 
finished  ? 

JENNY 

[Licking  the  flap  of  the  envelope,]     Yes,  lady.     But 
I  don't  know  what  mother'll  say. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Give  it  me!     [Takes  the  letter  and  reads  the  address.] 
"  Mrs.  Wray." 

JENNY 

That's  mother. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[To  Chandos,  introducing  them.]     This  is  Miss  Wray 
—  Mr.  Chandos.     [Chandos  hows  smilingly.] 
-C  65   > 


HAP^PINESS 
[Holds  her  hand  out  timialy.']     Jenny's  my  name. 

CHAN^OS 

Glad  to  meet  you. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAlrPOLE 

May  I  use  your  car? 

CHANDOS        \ 

Certainly.  \ 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I'll  send  this.      [Goes  out.'] 

JENNY 

[Surreptitiously  takes  out  an  old  cheaply-framed 
daguerreotype,  rubs  it  and  looks  at  it,  then  at  Chandos.] 
What  did  you  say  your  name  is.'' 

CHANDOS 

[Looks  at  her  amusedly.']      Chandos. 

JENNY 

Sure? 

CHANDOS 

Quite. 

JENNY 

Did  you  ever  live  in  Brooklyn? 

CHANDOS 

Never. 

-C  66   > 


HAPPINESS 

JENNY 
Oh! 

CHANDOS 

^Vhy? 

JENNY 

You    look    awfully   lilce    he    did  —  only   yer    dressed 
different. 

CHANDOS 

Like  whom? 

JENNY 

My  father. 

CHANDOS 

Really?      [Laughg.] 

JENNY 

I'm  sure  mother'll  ask  ye  if  she  comes.      [Sits  down, 
looking  at  the  photo.] 

[Enter    Mrs.    Chrystal-Pole.     Chandos,    suppressing 
his  laughter,  walks  over  to  Mrs.   Pole.] 

JENNY 

[Touches  Chandos's  arm  as  he  passes  her."]     Are  ye 
sure  ye  never  lived  in  Brooklyn? 

CHANDOS 

[First  looks  at  her,  then  moves  to  Mrs.  Pole.]     Who 
is  she? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAlrPOLE 

She's  come  out  of  nowhere  to  us. 
-C  67  > 


HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 

[In  amuzement.l     Us? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

You  and  me. 

CHANDOS 

What  for? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

To  help  us  to  look  forward.  [Goes  to  Jenny.] 
Come,  take  off  your  coat  and  your  hat  and  your  gloves. 
[Assists  her  with  them,'] 

JENinr 
It's  nice  of  you  to   ask  us.     But  I   don't  think   we 
should  —  really  — 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Why  not? 

JENNY 

Like  this?     [Points  to  her  shabby  dress.] 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

What  does  that  matter?  Remember,  you  have  your 
thoughts. 

JENNY 

Yes,  lady.  [Takes  off  coat.  Mrs.  Pole  puts  coat  on 
table.     Jenny  hands  Mrs.  Chrystal-Pgle  her  hat.] 

MRS.    CHRYSTAI/-POLE 

Is  it  a  bargain? 

-c  68 :}. 


HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

[Laughs  cheerfully  and  touches  the  shabby  little  hat.'] 
Yes^  it  was.     How  did  you  know  ? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I  mean^  will  you  help  me  —  and  let  me  help  you  ? 

JENNY 

I'd  like  to. 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Presses  her  down  onto  the  couch  into  a  comfortable 
position,  then  goes  to  Chandos.]  If  there  were  more 
like  her,  there  would  be  fewer  like  us. 

CHANDOS 

Why? 

MRS.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

She's  a  real  human  being.  .  She's  found  what  we've 
never  known. 

CHANDOS 

Yes? 

MES.    CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Happiness. 

JENNY 

[Nervousli/  locking  and  unlocking  her  fingers,  a  wor- 
?    fied  look  in  her  eyes,  a  tremor  running  through  her  thin 
little  body,  murmurs  under  her  breath.]      I   wonder  if 
mother  will  come? 


-C  «9  3- 


JUST     AS     WELL 

Written  in  1898 
Reyisbd  for  Production,  1914 


CHARACTERS 

Hon.  Doleen  Sweetmarch     Maid 

Mrs.  Carfax  Captain  Trawbridge 

SCENE 

Morning-room  at  Lady  Srveetmarch's. 
Mayfair.     London. 


JUST     AS     WELL 
A  TWENTIETH-CENTURY  ROMANCE 

[The  action  of  the  Romance  passes  in  the  Morning- 
room  of  Lady  Sweetmarch's  Town-house  in  Mayfair. 

It  is  on  the  first  floor,  and  through  the  open  windows  can 
be  seen  the  budding  trees  of  the  adjacent  gardens, 
in  from  which  comes  the  warm  breath  of  late  Spring. 
It  is  a  handsomely-furnished  room,  made  still  more 
attractive  by  the  addition  of  many  open  cases  of 
jewelry,  rare  vases,  pottery,  porcelain,  an  Indian 
shawl  and  huge  masses  of  flowers.  Lending  a  some- 
what commonplace  note  to  the  otherwise  brilliant 
atmosphere,  in  prominent  positions  are  a  large  soup' 
tureen  with  a  ladle,  a  velvet  receptacle  containing 
numerous  silver  salt-cellars,  and  a  quantity  of  knives 
and  forks.  Cards,  lying  on  or  attached  to  the  various 
and  numerous  articles  denote  that  they  are  offerings 
from  well-wishing  friends. 

The  Maid  ushers  in  Mrs.  Carpax,  a  gentle,  kindly, 
spirituelle  lady  of  fifty.  She  is  carrying  a  somewhat 
bulky  parcel  very  tenderly  and  devotionally . 

MAID 

Miss  Sweetmarch  has  just  come  in  from  the  Park. 
I'll  tell  her. 


JUST     AS     WELL 

MRS.    CAUFAX 

The  wedding  is  on  Friday  —  is  it  not? 

MAID 

Yes,  Madam. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

[Gives  a  little  sigh.     She  then  holds  out  the  package 
to  the  Maid.]      Kindly  unwrap  it. 

MAID 

[Undoes  the  wrappings  and  discloses  two  large,  sober- 
ly-hound  volumes. '\ 

MRS.    CARFAX 

[Indicating  a  small  table.']     Here,  please. 

[The  Maid  places  the  books  carefully  on  the  table,  goes 
to  the  door  and  opens  it.  She  steps  back  to  make 
way  for  Miss  Doleen  Sweetmarch,  who  enters  at 
that  moment.  The  Maid  goes  out,  closing  the  door 
Noiselessly  behind  her.  Doleen  walks  straight  into 
the  room  and  greets  Mrs.  Carfax  enthusiastically. 
She  is  a  slight,  fair,  impressionable  young  lady  of 
twenty-six ;  is  attired  in  a  modish  riding-habit,  and 
has  a  number  of  open  letters  in  her  hand.  Her  cheeks 
are  flushed  from  the  morning-ride ,  and  her  eyes  dance 
with  the  happiness  born  of  health.  She  is  radiant. 
She  speaks  with  the  most  adorable  lisp,  turning  her 
"  r*s  **  into  "  w's/'  and  sounding  the  letter  "  s  **  as 
though  it  were  "  th/*  and  has  a  straightforward, 
child-like,  naive  manner  that  goes  straight  to  one's 
heart.] 

-c  76 :}. 


JUST    AS    WELL 

DOLEEN 

[Giving  a  cry  of  delight,  embraces  Mrs.  Carfax 
exuberantly  and  kisses  her  on  both  cheeks.^  Dear  Mrs. 
Carfax.     How  sweet  of  you  to  come. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

[Her  eyes  filling.]     Oh,  my  poor  child! 

DOLEEN 

Don't  cry.     Please  don't  cry. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

I  can*t  help  it,  Doleen.  I  can't  help  it.  It  will  soon 
be  over.  It  is  with  happiness,  dear  —  just  happiness  — 
for  yonr  sake.  I  am  glad  —  most  glad  —  that  you  have 
won  the  love  of  an  honorable  man. 

DOLEEN 

Isn't  it  splendid  —  just  too  splendid. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

It  is  very  unexpected. 

DOL£EN 

That's  what  everyone  says. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

You  are  most  fortunate.  I  sincerely  hope  your  mar- 
riage will  not  be  a  mistake.     So  many  are. 

DOLEEN 

Aren't  they? 

-C  77  > 


JUST    AS    WELL 

MRS.    CARFAX 

Here,  dear.      [She  takes  up  the  two  big  books.l 

DOLEEN 

Are  they  for  me? 

MRS.    CARFAX 

Yes.     Dean  Hole's  sermons. 

DOLEEN 

Oh,  how  lovely. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

They  are  most  satisfying.  Take  them  with  you  on 
your  honeymoon  and  read  them  constantly.  I  do  want 
you  to  try  and  realize  the  responsibility  of  the  path  in 
life  you  have  chosen.     It  is  full  of  pitfalls. 

DOLEEN 

[Turning  the  pages. ^  I'll  just  love  these.  It  is  so 
sweet  of  you  to  bring  them.     I  adore  sermons. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

Come  and  see  me  directly  you  return,  won't  you. 

DOLEEN 

The  first  minute  I'm  back  —  really. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

[Cries.]  I  do  hope  you  will  be  happy.  But  it  is  a 
great  risk. 

DOLEEN 

I've  not  taken  it  yet.  So  don't  cry,  Mrs.  Carfax. 
Just  listen  to  this.      [Reads  one  of  the  open  letters."] 

-C  78  > 


JUST    AS    WELL 

"Good  old  Do.  So  it's  all  right,  eh?  Jolly  glad. 
Best  of  luck,  old  girl.  You'll  have  to  tighten  the  rein 
a  bit,  now.  Trawbridge  has  a  hard  mouth.  You  had 
better  ride  him  on  the  curb."  Isn't  the  bracelet  a  dear? 
[DoLEEN  &hows  it  to  Mrs.  Carfajc  and  kisses  it.y 
*'  Tons  of  kisses.  Yours  to  a  turn.  Gyp."  We  were 
at  school  together,  you  know.  I  rather  thought  she 
wanted  Trawbridge  herself,  poor  dear.  Isn't  it  a  sweet 
letter? 

MES.    CARFAX 

[Severely.^     A  very  flipant,  worldly  letter. 

DOLEEN 

Oh,  she's  very  worldly.  Very.  But  isn't  it  a  pretty 
bracelet?  What  does  she  mean,  "ride  Trawbridge  on 
the  curb"?  I  think  that's  horrid.  Oh,  you  must  hear 
this  one.  [Reads  another,]  '*  Dear  Miss  Sweetmarch. 
I  have  just  heard  the  news  of  your  approaching  mar- 
riage. I  need  hardly  say  how  surprised  I  am  —  how 
shocked  I  am" — [breaks  off].  No,  that  isn't  the  one. 
That's  from  poor  old  Clifford.  He  thought  I  was  in  love 
with  him.  Poor  old  silly.  [Takes  up  a  pearl  cross.] 
Nice  of  him  to  send  me  that,  wasn't  it?  The  stupid  boy, 
of  course  I  wasn't  in  earnest  and  he  ought  to  have 
known  it. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

You  understand,  Doleen,  you  must  never  flirt  again. 

DOLEEN 

I  should  think  not.     This  is  from  my  brother.     He's 
-C  79  > 


JUST     AS     WELL 

a  little  rascal  himself.  [Reads.']  "  Dearest  Sid.  You 
have  taken  a  rise  out  of  us  all.  Fancy  old  Trawbridge ! 
Didn't  think  he  had  it  in  him.  Never  mind,  he's  all 
right.  Give  him  a  chance,  won't  you?  I  am  sending 
you  the  biggest  tureen  I  can  find.  You  are  bound  to 
fall  in  the  soup."  It  sounds  disgustingly  vulgar.  "  The 
ladle  is  to  match.  Your  loving  brother,  Freddie." 
Don't  like  that  at  all.  Isn't  this  beautiful?  [Shows 
jewel-case.]  From  Colonel  Crawford.  He's  to  be  the 
best  man.  [Picks  up  another  case.]  Oh,  what  a  duck! 
[Runs  across  to  mirror  and  fastens  it  on.  Hurries  back 
to  table  and  sees  the  other  cases.]  Knives.  Why  do 
people  send  knives?  Silly  things.  Salt  cellars.  Twelve 
of  them.  Isn't  it  ridiculous  ?  One  would  think  we  were 
going  to  live  on  salt.  [Suddenly.]  Oh,  Mrs.  Carfax, 
I  ought  not  to  keep  them.  I  won't  keep  them.  I  must 
send  them  back.     I  will  send  them  back. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

What  for? 

DOLEEN 

Because  I  don't  love  him.     I  don't  love  him.     I  know 
now  I  never  did  love  him. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

Then  why  did  you  become  engaged? 

DOLEEN 

I  don't  know.     I  didn't  ask  him  to  marry  me.     I  don't 
think  he  ever  asked  me.     Only  people  talked  about  us 

-C   80  > 


JUST     AS     WELL 

—  and  I  let  him  talk  to  me  —  and  now  theyVe  sent  all 
these.     Isn't  it  awful? 

MRS.    CAEFAX 

If  you  don't  love  him,  you  must  not  marry  him. 

DOLEEN 

I  won't.  I'm  sure  I  could  never  make  him  happy. 
He's  so  fussy.  And  so  serious.  And  I  think  I  love 
someone  else.  Claude  Plumleigh.  I  think  I  do.  He's 
so  jolly.  And  he  has  five  thousand  a  year,  a  shooting- 
box,  a  yacht,  and  an  uncle  worth  a  million.  Of  course, 
that  isn't  the  reason. 

MKS.    CAUFAX 

Doleen  — 

DOLEJEN 

Poor  Trawbridge.  He's  only  got  his  pay  and  his 
father's  allowance,  which  isn't  much.  When  his  father 
dies,  of  course,  he'll  be  quite  well  off.  But  then  the 
General  may  live  to  a  hundred,  poor  man,  and  we'd  be 
so  shabby,  waiting.  No.  I'm  sure  it's  for  the  best. 
Claude's  a  real  chance.  And  I'm  really  fond  of  him  — • 
at  least  I  think  I  am. 

MBS.    CAEFAX 

There  must  be  no  doubt  before  marriage,  Doleen. 

DOLEEN 

I  should  think  not. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

Marriage,  my  dear,  is  like  an  egg. 
-C   81    > 


JUST    AS    WELL 

DOLEBN 


An  egg? 


MES.    CAEFAX 

If  there  is  any  doubt,  there  is  no  doubt. 

DO LEE N 

You  mean  a  rotten  egg ! 

MRS.    CARFAX 

And  an  unhappy  marriage. 

DOLEEN 

Oh,  I  must  break  it  off.  But  it  does  seem  a  shame  to 
send  all  these  beautiful  things  back.  I  wonder  if  I 
could  keep  —  no,  nothing.  If  I  marry  Claude,  they 
can  send  them  all  to  me  again.  [She  runs  from  one  to 
the  other,  touching  some  of  them  longingly,  some 
caressingly,  picks  up  the  shawl  and  reads  from  the  card 
attached.]  "  From  General  Sir  Cholmondeley  Traw- 
bridge.  JuUundur,  Punjaub,  India.  My  sincerest 
wishes  for  your  happiness."  [Puts  shawl  on.]  He 
must  be  a  dear  old  thing,  but  he  has  lived  a  long  time. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

Does  Captain  Trawbridge  know  you  do  not  care  for 
him? 

DOLEEN 

Not  in  the  least.     He  doesn't  even  suspect  it. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

And  he  loves  you? 

-C   82   > 


JUST    AS    WELL 

BOLEEN 

He's  perfectly  mad  about  me. 

MBS.    CABFAX 

You  must  not  let  it  go  on  any  longer.  You  must 
break  it  off  at  once. 

DOLEEN 

I  am  so  glad  you  think  that,  too.  The  moment  he 
comes  in  I'll  just  rush  at  him  and  get  it  over.  Poor  old 
Hastings.  I  wish  he  didn't  stammer.  It's  so  silly. 
And  he  always  stammers  in  the  wrong  place.  [Ring 
heard  faintly  in  the  distance.  Excitedly.']  There  he 
is.  It's  just  his  time.  He  calls  every  morning  at  11 :30, 
as  if  it  were  parade.  I  do  hope  he  won't  make  a  scene. 
I  can't  help  it  if  he  does.     Won't  you  stay  and  help  me  ? 

MRS.    CARFAX 

No,  I  will  not. 

DOLEEN 

Oh,  please !     It  would  be  so  nice  to  have  you  tell  him. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

You  must  learn  to  take  the  responsibility  of  your  own 
acts.  Such  a  marriage  without  love  would  have  been 
terrible. 

DOLEEN 

[Embracing  her.]  I  knew  you'd  stand  by  me,  you 
•ngel. 

[Enter  Maid.] 
-C  8S  > 


JUST    AS    WELL 

MAID 

Captain  Trawbridge. 

DOLEEN 

In  here. 

MES.    CAKFAX 

Wait,  I'll  go. 

DOLEEJT 

Do  please  help  me  to  break  it  to  him  — 

MRS.    CABFAX 

[Draws   herself   up.]      Remember,   it   is    your    duty. 
Follow  it. 

DOLEEN 

Don't  fear,  dear  Mrs.  Carfax. 

MRS.    CARFAX 

I  will  pray  for  you  tonight. 
DOLEEN 

That  will  be  sweet  of  you. 

[Mrs.  Carfax  passes  out  with  Maid.  Doleen  sits  at 
piano  and  plays  and  sings.  Enter  Captain  Hastings 
Trawbridge,  a  smart,  well-groomed  officer,  very  fash- 
ionably dressed,  deliberate  of  speech  except  when  ex- 
cited, then  he  stammers;  he  is  very  serious  and  some 
what  miserable.  He  advances  slowly  into  the  room 
and  stands  looking  mournfully  at  the  presents.  Do- 
leen stops  singing,  but  continues  to  play."] 
-C  84  > 


JUST     AS     WELL 

DOLEEN 

He*s    there.     I    can    feel   him    all    down    my    spine. 
[Shivert,"] 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

[Turning  round  front  presents.]     Doleen. 

DOLEEN 

[Starting  up.]     Oh ! 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

Good-morning. 

DOIJEIEN 

You  are  early? 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

Think    not.      [Opens    watch.]      11:30.     Thought    so. 
How  are  you  f 

DOLEEN 

Very  fit.     How  are  you? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

Jolly.     [Sighs  heavily.]     Is  Lady  Sweetmarch  in? 

DOLEEN 

No.     They  have  all  gone  to  Tate's. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

Q-q-quite  alone? 

DOLEEN 

Quite. 

-C  85  > 


JUST     AS     WELL 

CAPTAIN    TUAWBEIDGE 

No  one  likely  to  disturb  us? 

DOLEEN 

No  one. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Glad.      [Looking  at  presents. 1     More  of  'em.'' 

DOLEEN 

Yes.     Twenty  since  yesterday. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

[Gloomily .'\     On  Friday! 

DOLEEN 

Er  —  yes  —  Hastings  —  on  Friday  —  that  is  if  • 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Awfully  near! 

DOLEEN 

Isn't  it.-*     Do  you  know,  I  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

S-s-serious  b-b-business,  isn't  it? 

DOLEEN 

What  is? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Friday's. 

DOLEEN 

Oh,  yes;  ha,  ha!     [Laughs  nervously.]     But  — 
-C   86   > 


JUST    AS    WELL 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBKIDGE 

Thought  it  well  out?     [Looks  at  her  anjciously.l 

DOLEEN 

[Jumping  at  the  opportunity.]     Yes,  Hastings,  I  have, 
and  I  have  come  to  toe  conclusion  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Must  go  on  with  it?     Thought  as  much.     [Sighs.] 

DOLEEN 

Well,  really,  ha,  ha !      [Laughs.]     As  a  matter  of  fact 
I  was  going  to —      [A  little  nearer  to  him.] 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

I  know,  I  know.     It's  dreadful.     So  near,  too. 

DOI.EEN 

Yes,  but  what  I  was  going  to  say  was  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Don't  let  us  talk  about  it.     [Picking  up  jewel-case.] 

DOLEEN 

[Growing  excited.]     But  I  must.     Hastings,  I  can't  — • 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I    say,    they're   j-j -jolly.     [Holding    up    a    diamond 
spray.] 

DOLEEN 

Aren't  they  ?     Er  —  but  I  — 
-C  87  > 


JUST     AS     WELL 

CAPTAIN    TRAWB RIDGE 

Tried  them  on? 

DOLEEN 

I  have.     Fancy,  Hastings  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWB EIDGE 

Look  r-r-ripping  at  n-nlght.     \ Wouldn't  they? 

DOLEEN 

Ha,   ha!     Wouldn't   they?      [Puts   her   hand   on    hit    I 
shoulder.]     Hastings  —  justn)w  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE    " 

[TaJees  up  another  case.]     That's  a  rum  thing.     Got    \ 
no  beginning  or  end  to  it. 

DOLEEN 

[Seizes  his  left  hand.]  Hastings,  when  you  spoke 
about  Friday  just  now,  a  new  light  seemed  to  dawn 
upon  me. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

[Disengages  himself.]  Did  it?  Never  mind.  It 
may  be  all  for  the  best.  [Picks  up  a  package.]  What 
are  these? 

DOLEEN 

[Angrily.]  Oh!  [Turns  away.]  They're  fire- 
irons  ! 


CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I  d-don't  think  much  of  them.      [Holding   them  up, 
opened  out,] 

-C  88  > 


JUST    AS    WELL 

DOLEEN 

[Quite  sweetly,  with  an  entire  change  of  manner.'] 
They're  from  dear  Uncle  Harry.  He  sent  a  cheque  as 
well. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

Oh  }     How  much  ? 

DOLEEN 

Five  hundred. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

That's  useful. 

DOLEEN 

Wasn't  it  sweet  of  him?  And  your  father  sent  a 
shawl.  [Hunts  about  for  it."]  I  must  show  it  to  you. 
[Finds  it. '\     Isn't  that  too  sweet? 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

I  thought  the  guv'nor  would  send  a  shawl. 

DOLEEN 

That's  all  he  did  send. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 
Ah! 

DOLEEN 

How  old  is  he,  dear? 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

Sixty. 

-C  89  > 


JUST    AS    WELL 

DOLEEN 

Very  healthy,  isn't  he? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Grows  younger  every  day. 

DOLEEN 

[Trying  to  get  hachJ]     Do  you  know,  Hastings  dear, 
that  a  couple  engaged  as  we  are  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Engaged  —  Gad ! 

DOLEEN 

On  the  brink  of  marriage  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Three  more  days. 

DOLEEN 

—  are  placed  in  a  terrible  position  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Awful. 

DOLEEN 

And  it  was  for  that  very  reason  that  I  am  going  to  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Yes,  I  know. 

DOLEEN 

But  you  don*t  know.      [Growing  angry  again.'] 
<  90  y 


JUST    AS    WELL 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I  d-d-do  —  only  too  well.  [Takes  up  the  two  large 
books.] 

DOIiEBN 

What?. 

CAPTAIN    TKAWBEIDGE 

Sermons!     By  Jove!     These  are  ripping! 

DOLEEN 

Aren't  they? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

[Opens  volume;  reads.]  "  The  thorny  path  of  duty." 
Duty!  [Looks  at  Doleen.]  The  thorny  path! 
[Braces  himself.]     I'll  t-t-tread  it. 

DOLEEN 

[Breaks  into  a  merry  laugh.]  Fancy,  Hastings,  ha, 
ha,  ha  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

[Solemnly.]     I  say,  don't  laugh! 
DOLEEN 

Oh,  but  I  must.  It's  the  funniest  thing  in  the  world 
—  ha,  ha,  ha ! 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

[His  arms  full  of  the  books,]  D-don't!  I  c-c-can't 
bear  it. 


JUST    AS    WELL 

DOLEEN 

Do  put  the  sermons  down  and  listen.  You  must  know 
—  ha,  ha,  lia!  I  really  can't  help  laughing,  but  I  have 
just  found  out  —  it  really  is  too  funny,  ha,  ha,  ha!  — 
that  you  and  I  are  not  a  bit  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

Doleen!     [Solemnly.] 

DOLEEN 

[Stops  laughing.']     Hastings. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

[Holding  books  out  at  arm's  length  in  entreaty.]  You 
must  return  them. 

DOLEEN 

[In  amazement.]     The  sermons? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Everything, 

DOLEEN 

[Still  more  amazed.]      Everything? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Y-y-yes.     It's  our  d-d-duty. 

DOLEEN 

I  don't  understand. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

It's  b-b-better  you  never  should. 
-C  92  > 


JUST     AS     WELL 

DOLEEN 

Really,  Hastings  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

It  is  dreadful. 

DOLEEN 

Why,  what  has  happened? 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

[Growing  excited.]  It  c-c-can't  be.  The  f-f-fact  is, 
I'm  a  fool.  [Drops  one  of  the  books;  picJcs  it  up.]  I 
m-m-mean  I've  b-b-been  a  f-f-fool.  [Drops  the  other.] 
D-d-damn!     I  beg  your  pardon. 

DOLEEN 

What  do  you  mean? 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

[Replaces  the  books  on  the  table  and  walks  toward 
DoLEEN.]  Doleen!  I  c-c-can't  m-marry  you  on 
F-F-Friday. 

DOLEEN 

You  can't  marry  me  on  Friday? 

CAPTAIN  TEAWBRIDGE 

No. 

DOLEEN 

Then,  when  can  you  marry  me? 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

N-Ncver. 

-C  es  > 


JUST    AS     WELL 

[DoLEEN  sits  in  mingled  amazement,  amusement,  joy  and 
'vexation.'\ 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I  know  I'm  a  b-b-brute.  I  ought  to  be  h-h-horse- 
whipped.     I  d-d-deserve  it.     But  it  is  n-not  my  f-fault. 

DOLEEN 

Then  whose  fault  is  it? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGi 

It  is  fate.  M 

DOLEEN 

Oh!      [Moves  angrily  up  and  down  the  room."] 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

D-D-Doleen,  I  love  someone  else. 

DOLEEN 

Oh!     Do  you? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I  knew  it  would  b-b-break  your  heart  — 

DOLEEN 

Break  my  —  well! 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

But  it  is  b-better,  yes,  f-far  b-better,  to  realize 
c-c-calmly  and  s-s-soberly  that  a  great  gulf  has  c-come 
between  us  —  d-darling ! 

DOLEEN 

Darling ! 

-C  9*  > 


1> 
JUST     AS     WELL 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I  mean,  a  g-g-great  g-g-gulf. 

DOIiEEN 

Who  19  she? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

An  a-angel. 

DOLEEN 

Oh! 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

If  y-you  c-c-could  only  s-see  her. 

DOLEEN 

Captain  Trawbridge,  I  think  you  have  behaved  dis- 
gracefully. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

I  h-have. 

DOLEEN 

Abominably. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

She  is  awfully  y-young. 

DOLEEN 

Indeed!     \Tw%»i%ng  her  handkerchief  and  tapping  the 
floor  with  her  boot.l 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

Awfully  innocent. 

-C  95  > 


JUST    AS    WELL 

DOLEEN 


Really. 


CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

Awfully  f-f-fair. 

DOLEEN 

Don't  be  absurd. 

CAPTAIN    TKAWBEIDGE 

To  spare  you  a  moment's  pain  — 

DOLEEN 

[Laughing.']      Ha,  ha,  ha! 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

I  know  how  you  must  suffer  — 

DOLEEN 

Captain  Trawbridge,  let  us  quite  understand  each 
other.  This  gulf  that  has  opened  between  us  is  quite 
the  most  welcome  thing  that  could  have  happened. 

CAPTAIN  TEAWBRIDGE 
Eh? 

DOLEEN 

So  far  from  breaking  my  heart,  or,  indeed,  causing 
me  a  moment's  pain,  it  is  the  one  thing  that  I  most 
desired. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

Eh?  What?  You  d-d-didn't  w-wish  to  m-m-marry 
me? 

-C  96  > 


JUST     AS     WELL 

BOLEEN 

Not  in  the  least. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

And  you  don't  want  to  now? 

DOLEEN 

Certainly  not. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

N-never  ? 

DOLEEN 

Never. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

Then  it's  all  right? 

DOLEEN 

Quite  all  right. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

[Delighted.]     By     George!     That's     splendid!     Ha, 
ha,  ha! 

DOLEEN 

Quite  a  relief,  isn't  it? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Why  didn't  you  tell  me  before? 

DOLEEN 

You  didn't  give  me  a  chance. 

■c  97 :}- 


JUST     AS     WELL 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

You  were  going  to,  just  now? 

DOIiEEN 

Yes,  but  you  would  interrupt  me. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

Fancy  that. 

DOLEEN 

Odd,  wasn't  it? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

Wasn't  it?  [Laughs.  Doleen  looks  at  him  and 
laughs,  they  laugh  together  a  moment.^  Someone  else, 
eh? 

DOLEEN 

Yes. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

Good  chap? 

DOLEEN 

A  pet! 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

[Disappointedly.']  Oh  —  really !  I  mean  to  say  — 
I'm  delighted.     Oh,  well,  I  must  be  going. 

DOLEEN 

To  the  —  other  one  ? 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

Yes. 

-c  98 :}- 


JUST    AS     WELL 

I)OL££N 

The  Park? 

CAPTAIN    TBAWBRIDGE 

No,  Hurlingham. 

DOLEEN 

To  lunch? 

CAPTAIN    TBAWBEIDGE 

Yes. 

DOLEEN 

So  are  we ! 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

Oh !     By  George !     I  think  we  will  go  somewhere  else. 

DOLEEN 

It  would  be  better. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Well,  good-bye.     [Holds  out  his  hand.l 

DOLEEN 

Good-bye.     [Arms  folded,  ignores  his  handJ] 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

See  8-something  of  you,  sometimes. 

DOLEEN 

I  dare  say. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

[Turns  to  go;  stops,  points  to  tahleJ]     Oh!     What 
about  these?     [Indicating  presents^] 
-C  99  > 


JUST     AS     WELL 

DOLEEN 
They  shall  go  back  tonight. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBKIDGE 

Pity,  isn't  it? 

DOLEEN 

Think  so? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Still,  it's  all  for  the  best.     Good-bye. 

DOLEEN 

Good-bye. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

I  hope  you'll  be  happy. 

DOLEEN 

Thanks. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Do  I  know  him  —  in  any  way  ? 

DOLEEN 

I  shouldn't  think  so. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

No,    no;    of    course    not.     Quite    so.     Is    his    name 
familiar  ? 

DOLEEN 

Not  in  the  least. 


-Cioo> 


JUST    AS    W^t|^  -■  OHi'^^  i 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

No,    no!     Certainly    not.     [Goes    to    door.^     Well, 
good-bye. 

DOLEEN 

[Calling.]    Hastings!    [Captain  Trawbridqk  turns.] 
Have  I  met  the  "  angel  "  ? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

She's  never  mentioned  you. 

DOLEEN 

What  did  you  say  her  name  was? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

I  d-don't  think  I  mentioned  it. 

DOLEEN 

Oh,  I'm  not  in  the  least  curious. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

[Pauses,  comes  down  a  step.]     She's  only  eighteen. 

DOLEEN 

[Laughs  cattily.]     A  mere  child. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

I  don't  know.     She's  a  woman  in  some  ways. 

DOLEEN 

Fair,  I  think  you  said  ^ 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

As  A  r-r-rose. 

-Cioi> 


:  :<:  y:\,:  -'l^JUST   AS    WELL 

DOLEEN 

Known  her  long? 

CAPTAIN    TiAWBRIDGE 

A  w-w-week. 

DOLEEN 

Ha,  ha !     You  haven't  wasted  time. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

N-not  much. 

DOLEEN 

And  you  are  going  to  marry  her? 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

That  will  be  my  privilege. 

DOLEEN 

When? 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

Well  —  er  —  I  mean  to  say  —  a  bit  long,  you  know. 
In  f-f-four  years. 

DOLEEN 

[Laughing. 1     Four  years! 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

Her  mother's  wish.     Long  time,  eh? 

DOLEEN 

[Laughing  immoderately.']     You  are  stupid. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

Nothing  to  laugh  at. 

-C102> 


JUST    AS    WELL 

DOLEEN 

[Hysterically.]     Oh,  don't! 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Ha,    ha!     Qnite    so!     Quite    so!     [Suddenly,]     By 
George,  she*s  divine. 

DOLEEN 

[Indignantly.']     You  said  /  was  once. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 
Did  I? 

DOLEEN 

Oh,  I'm  surprised,  disgusted. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

Yes,  b-b-but  I  say,  what  about  yourself? 

DOLEEN 

That's  different  —  he's  a  man. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

I  don't  see  there's  much  difference. 

DOLEEN 

He  knows  his  own  mind. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

Glad  to  hear  it.     Engaged  ? 

DOLEEN 

Yes. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

Well,  you  know  — !     Wm^     Fixed  the  diy  ? 

-Cios^. 


JUST    AS    WELL 

DOLEEN 


Next  month. 


CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

Next  —  ?     I    s-s-say,  you   haven't  Host   much   time 
cither,  eh? 

DOLEEN 

Why  should  I? 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

Quite  right.     Why   should  you?     Well,   I'm  j-jolly 
glad. 

DOLEEN 

Glad? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

F-for  your  s-sake. 

DOLEEN 

Oh! 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

You  d-d-deserve  a  b-better  man  than  me. 

DOLEEN 

I  know  that. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

And  I'm  sure  you  ought  to  be  v-very  happy. 

DOLEEN 

I  mean  to  be. 


JUST    AS     WELL 

CAPTAIN    TKAWBRIDGE 

D-D-Doleen  —  d-don*t  you  think  it  is  all  for  the 
b-best? 

DOLEEN 
My  meeting  Claude? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

And  my  meeting  Clara? 

DOLEEN 

Yes,  I  suppose  it's  just  as  well. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

D-don't  you  think  we  might  still  be  friends? 

DOLEEN 

Why,  of  course;  and,  Hastings,  you  can  always  look 
upon  me  as  a  sister. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I  shall  be  proud  to.  [Looks  at  her  admiringly  for  a 
moment. 1  You  were  v-very  f-fond  of  me  once,  weren't 
you? 

DOLEEN 

Was  I? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

And  I  was  d-devoted  to  you.     [Near  to  her.] 

DOLEEN 

Were  you? 

-C105:}. 


JUST    AS    WELL 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

[Holding  out  his  hand.]     Miss  Sweetmarch! 

DOLEEN 

[Taking  his  hand."}     Captain  Trawbridge! 

[They   stand   together  for  a   moment,   then   she   moves 
away  J  he  goes  quietly  to  the  door.] 

DOLEEN 

[Without  turning  round.]  Hastings!  [Trawbridge 
stops.]  Would  you  like  to  see  his  photograph?  You 
may,  if  you  like. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Think  it  necessary? 

DOI.EEN 

I'm  sure  you  would  be  such  good  friends.  [Taking 
up  photo-frame  from  mantel-piece.] 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Would  you  like  to  see  hers?  [Puts  his  hand  in  the 
breast  pocket  of  his  coat,  searching  for  it.] 

DOLEEN 

I'm  not  interested  in  the  least. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

[Taking  out  the  picture.]  To  know  her  is  to  worship 
her.      [Looking  intently  at  it.] 

DOLEEN 

[Looking  at  framed  photo.]     He's  a  dear  old  thing. 
-C106> 


JUST    AS    WELL 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

There !     [Handing  photo  to  Doleen.] 

DOLEEN 

There !     [Handing  photo  to  Trawbridge.     They  both 
look  at  photos  and  burst  into  laughterJ] 

DOLEEN 

Clara  Catchpole!     Ha,  ha,  ha! 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

Claude  Plumleigh!     Ha,  ha,  ha! 

DOLEEN 

Fancy   falling  in  love  with   Clara!     Oh,  this  is   too 
funny.      [Sinks  onto  chair,  laughing  loudly. "] 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBBIDGE 

Funny?     N-not  half  so  funny  as  you  liking  this  old 
idiot. 

DOLEEN 

[Seriously  J]     Idiot ! 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBBIDGE 

C-CIaude's  a  shocking  ass. 

DOLEEN 

Captain  Trawbridge,  he  is  my  future  husband. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

You're  joking! 

DOLEEN 

I  never  joke. 

-C107  3. 


JUST     AS     WELL 

CAPTAIN    TKAWBEIDGB 

Well,  Claude's  no  joke. 

DOLEEN 

He's  one  of  the  dearest  men  in  the  world. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I  can  quite  believe  that.     He  cost  me  a  bit  when  I 
knew  him. 

DOLEEN 

And  please  remember  that  anything  you  say  against 
him  reflects  on  me. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWB RIDGE 

And  [looking  at  photograph]  you  threw  m-m-me  over 
for  this  silly  —  for  Claude ! 

DOLEEN 

He  is  a  man  in  a  million. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I  believe  that. 

DOLEEN 

You  needn't  sneer.  Captain  Trawbridge ! 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Why,  he  hasn't  t-two  ideas  in  the  w-world. 

DOLEEN 

He  has  five  thousand  pounds  a  year. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

How  much?     Five  hundred. 


JUST     AS     WELL 


DOLEEN 

What  do  you  know  about  U? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I    ought   to    know    something.     My    father    was    his 
t-t-trustee. 

DOLEEN 

And  he  has  only  five  hundred  a  year? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

B-b-b-barely  that. 

DOLEEN 

But  he  xcill  have  five  thousand? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Glad   to   hear   it.     D-don't  know   where   it's   coming 
from. 

DOLEEN 

Hia  uncle  is  enormously  rich. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

WeU? 

DOLEEN 

Well! 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

That  won't  make  any  difference  to  Claude. 

DOLEEN 

He'll  leave  Claude  everything. 
•C109> 


JUST     AS     WELL 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Of  course,  if  you  know  — 

DOLEEN 

Well,  won't  he? 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

He  wasn't  going  to,  when  I  saw  him  last. 

DOLEEN 

Wiiy  not? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Well,  Claude's  such  a  silly  —  I  mean  he's  not  quite  — 
well,  any  way,  he's  not, 

DOLEEN 

But  I  don't  understand.     He  told  me  distinctly  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Never  believe  a  word  he  says. 

DOLEEN 

Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  Claude  will  not  be  his  uncle's 
heir? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Won't  leave  him  sixpence. 

DOLEEN 

Then  why  did  he  tell  me  ? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Ah,  why? 


JUST     AS     WELL 

DOLEEN 

Oh !  [Moves  indignantly  up  and  down  the  room;  sud- 
denly remembers.]  But  he  has  a  shooting-box  in  Scot- 
land? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

First  I've  heard  of  it.  Goes  to  his  cousin's  when  he*ll 
have  him. 

DOLEEN 

He  has  a  yacht!     [Growing  more  and  more  angry,] 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Has  he? 

DOLEEN 

Hasn't  he? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Of  course,  if  you  know  — 

DOLEEN 

Hat  he  or  has  he  not? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Well,  he  has*     Hires  it  —  very  cheap ! 
DOLEEN 

Oh! 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

[Looking  at  photo.]  By  Jove,  old  c-chap,  you  c-c-can 
tell  'em. 

-cm?- 


JUST     AS     WELL 

DOLEEN 

lAlmost  in  tears.]     But  he's  brilliantly  clever. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

[Roars   with   laughter.]     Clever!     Claude!     Ha,   ha, 
ha! 

DOLEEN 

He  was  Senior  Wrangler  at  Cambridge! 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

He  was  never  at  Cambridge  in  his  life. 

DOLEEN 

He  was  never  at  Cambridge? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Except  on  a  bicycle. 

DOLEEN 

But  why  did  he  tell  me  such  stories? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

He  must  have  been  chaffing  you. 

DOLEEN 

.T4ien  it  was  in  the  worst  possible  taste, 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

He  never  had  any  taste. 

DOLEEN 
Captain  Trawbridge ! 


JUST    AS    WELL 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

I  beg  your  pardon. 

DOLEEN 

I'll  never  speak  to  him  again.      [Her  eyes  flashing.] 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

I  ^onght  it  was  fixed  for  next  month  f 

DOLEEN 

I  wouldn't  marry  him  if  he  were  the  only  man  in  the 
world.     Oh,  it's  monstrous. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

It's  a  beastly  shame.     I'll  talk  to  him  pretty  straight. 

DOLEEN 

You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind.     Fll  talk  to  him. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I  thought  you  were  never  going  to  — 

DOLEEN 

Hold  your  tongue!     [Turns  away.] 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I  think  I'll  be  going. 

DOLEEN 

[Her  back  to  him,]     Don't  stay  on  my  account. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Would  you  mind —     [Indicating  photo  in  Doleen'i 
hmnd.] 

•Ciis> 


JUST    AS    WELL 

BOLEEN 

Eh  ?     Oh !     Ha,  ha !     Ha,  ha,  ha !     Clara  ?     How  old 
do  you  say  she  is  ? 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

Eighteen. 

DOLEEN 

[Contemptuously.]     Eighteen! 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEID6E 

Next  March. 

DOLEEN 

She's  older  than  I  am. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

That's  nonsense. 

DOLEEN 

I  ought  to  know.     She  was  at  school  with  me, 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

That's  nothing  to  do  with  it. 

DOLEEN 

Fair  as  a  rose !     [Mockingly. ] 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

Figure  of  speech. 

DOLEEN 

She  was  auburn  last  year. 


JUST     AS     WELL 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

T-t-that  is  ch-ch-childish. 

DOLEEN 

Her  proper  colour  is  red  —  a  horrid  red,  too. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Will  you  kindly  give  me  that  photograph? 

DOLEEN 

Let  me  see  —  who  was  she  engaged  to  last? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I  am  the  f-f-first  man  she  has  ever  known. 

DOLEEN 

Oh,  you  would  believe  anything. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

[Holding  out  his  hand  for  photograph.']     Will  you 
kindly  — 

DOLEEN 

I  know  —  my  brother  Freddie.     She  threw  him  over 
for  Falconer.     She  threw  Falconer  over  for  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

You  are  quite  mistaken. 

DOLEEN 

Oh,  there's  no  mistaking  Clara. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

No  one  like  her  in  the  world. 
•C1I5> 


JUST    AS    WELL 

DOLEEN 

I  should  think  not.  You  little  minx.  [Looking  at 
j>hoto.]  You'd  be  rather  pretty,  if  you  weren't  frec- 
kled. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

They  have  a  charm  of  their  own. 

DOLEEN 

Pity  you  haven't  a  waist,     [Still  looking  ai  photo.'] 

CAPTAIN    TBAWBRIDGE 

Will  you  be  good  enough  — 

DOLEEN 

[To  Trawbridge.]  I'm  sure  I  hope  you'll  be 
happy  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Will  you  — 

DOLEEN 

You  deserve  to  be  —  you  are  so  confiding.  There! 
[Gives  him  photo.] 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Thank  you  —  good-bye. 

DOLEEN 

Good-bye. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

You  will  tell  Claude  what  you  think  of  him. 


JUST     AS    WELL 

DOLEEN 


The  wretch: 


CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

Sorry  I  had  to  disillusion  you. 

DOLEEN 

I  wish  I  could  have  said  nice  things  about  Clara,  but 
she  is  really  — 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBaiDGE 

Quite  so,  quite  so.  Good-morning.  Good-bye. 
[Goes  to  door;  thinks  a  moment,  then  goes  deliberately 
down  to  DoLEEN.]     Doleen ! 

DOLEEN 

Well.> 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBRIDGE 

I  say  —  is  she  —  is  she  really  red?, 

DOLEEN 

Yes! 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBBIDOE 

Very  red? 

DOLEEN 

A  nasty,  ugly  red. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

[Shivers,  thinks  for  a  moment.]  And  was  she  en- 
gaged to  Freddie? 

-C117  3- 


JUST     AS    WELL 

DOLEEN 
For  six  weeks. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

You  are  not  chaffing  me  ? 

DOLEEN 

Captain  Trawbridge,  I  never  chaff. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

Is  she  more  than  eighteen,  too? 

DOLEEN 

Every  minute  of  six-and-twenty. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

[Considering.'\     I  don't  like  her  mother. 

DOLEEN 

A  cat. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

She  got  me  into  it.      [Thinks.]     Serve  'em  both  right 
if  I  b-broke  it  off. 

DOLEEN 

It  would  indeed. 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

I've  a  good  mind  to. 

DOLEEN 

Why  don't  you? 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBEIDGE 

Are  you  going  to  break  with  Claude? 
-C118> 


JUST    AS    WELL 

DOLEEN 

I'll  never  see  him  again. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBKIDGB 

I  thought  you  were  going  to  —  ? 

DOLKEN 

I'll  write. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

Oh.     I  wonder  if  — 

DOLEEN 

Why  shouldn't  we  —  ? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

You're  a  dear  1-little  thing. 

DOLEEN 

Aren't  I  ?     You're  not  half-bad ! 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

No.     And  after  all  everything  is  arranged. 

DOLEEN 

You  have  a  good  allowance^  and  India  is  unhealthy. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

1  think  we  might  risk  it. 

DOLEEN 

And  then  there  are  the  presents. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Doleen. 

-C119:}- 


JUST    AS    WELL 

DOLEEN 


Hastings. 


CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I  s-suppose  you  think  me  a  b-brute. 

DOLEEN 

We  all  make  mistakes. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Do  you  think  you  could  ever  forgive  me? 

DOLEEN 

I  could  try. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I  was  very  f-foolish,  wasn't  I? 

DOLEEN 

So  was  I,  wasn't  I? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

And  you  think  you  could.'' 

DOLEEN 

Yes  —  if  you  would. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Will  you  try? 

DOLEEN 

l^Looking  down.]     I  am  trying, 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

[Taking  her  hand.]     Doleen. 
-C120> 


JUST    AS     WELL 

DOLEEN 

Hastings.      [He  kisses  her  hand.] 

CAPTAIN    TEAWBBIDGE 

I  am  awfully  glad. 

DOLEEN 

So  am  I. 

CAPTAIN    TKAWBRIDGE 

Sure? 

DOLEEN 

Yes.     Arc  yon? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBKIDGE 

Awfully  glad. 

DOLEEN 

[Gives  a  little  contented  sigh.]     Ah! 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBKIDGE 

[Looks   down   at   her.]     Rum    things,    girls.      [Con^ 
sidering.] 

DOLEEN 

Hastings ! 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Thought  I  k-knew  s-something  about  *em. 

DOLEEN 

Don't  you? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRID6B 

I  do  now. 

-C1213- 


JUST    AS    WELL 

DOLEEN 

Do  you? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Yes  —  I  know  now  there  is  only  one  in  the  w-world 
worth  having. 

DOLEEN 

Hastings,  fancy!     Friday!     [Laughing  gleefully  and 
girlishly.'] 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBEIDGE 

Yes  —  Friday. 

DOLEEN 

[Imitating  him.']     "  Awfully  near.'* 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

J-jolly  glad,  now.     I  say  —  we'll  go  to  Hurlingham! 

DOLEEN 

[Clapping  her  hands.]     Oh,  it  would  be  lovely. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

And  we'll  drive  through  the  Park  first. 

DOLEEN 

It  will  be  fun. 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Past  her  house  — 

DOLEEN 

And  hit  — 


JUST     AS     WELL 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGU 

We'll  teach  them  a  lesson  — 

DOLEEN 

They  won't  forget.     When  will  we  start? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

At  once.      [Taking  up  and  fondling  the  presents.'\      No 
need  to  send  these  back  now.^ 

DOLEEN 

No.     Isn't   it   splendid?      [Taking   up   jewels   again, 
and  trying  them  on.^     Hastie? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

Dolie? 

DOLEEN 

[Looking  in  mirror  admiringly.']     After  all,  I  think 
it  is  just  as  well,  don't  you? 

CAPTAIN    TRAWBRIDGE 

I'm  sure  it  is  just  as  well.     [Destroys  the  photographs 
of  Clara  and  Claude.] 

DOLEEN 

[Sings.]     **  There  came  a  lover  to  a  maid, 
All  on  a  summer's  day !  " 

[Thjb  Curtain  hides  them  from  view,^ 


<««> 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

Written  in  1897 
Revised  foh  Production,  1914 


Oh,  heart!     Oh,  blood  that  freezes.  Mood  that  burns! 

Earth's  returns 
For  whole  centuries  of  folly,  noise  and  sin! 

Shut  them  in 
With  their  triumphs  and   their  glories  and  the  rest. 

Love  is  best!  " 


THE  CHARACTERS  IN  THE  ALLEGORY 

The  Artist  The  Litterateur 

The  Politician  The  Attendant 

The  Financier  The  *  Dupe  * 


BEFORE  THE  CURTAIN  RISES,  THE  LIGHTS  IN 
THE  THEATRE  ARE  LOWERED.  CHIMES  ARE 
SOUNDED,  SUMMONING  THE  AUDIENCE  TO 
THEIR  SEATS.  WHEN  ALL  IS  STILL,  FROM 
BEHIND  THE    CURTAIN   "  PORTRAIT  NO.   22  '* 

FROM  Rubinstein's  "  kammenoi  ostrow  ** 

IS   PLAYED   ON    STRINGS,   INCLUDING   'CELLO, 
HARP,   VIOLA   AND   VIOLINS. 


Induction  spoken  hy  The  *  Dupe  *  standing  motionless 
in  front  of  a  black  velvet  hanging.  She  is  in  com- 
plete darkness  save  for  a  single  ray  of  light  stream- 
ing on  her  pale,  sorrowful  face. 

I  am  the  sprite 

That  reigns   at   night, 
My  body  is  fair  for  man's  delight* 

I  leap  and  laugh 

As  the  wine  I  quaff, 
And  I  am  the  Queen  of  Astrofelle. 

I  curse  and  swear 

In  my  demon-lair; 
I  shake  wild  sunbeams  out  of  my  hair. 

I  madden  the  old, 

I  gladden  the  bold. 
And  I  am  the  Queen  of  Astrofelle. 

Of  churchyard  stone 

I  have  made  my  throne; 
My  locks  are  looped  with  a  dead  man's  bone. 

Mine  eyes  are  red 

With  the  tears  I  shed. 
And  I  am  the  Queen  of  Astrofelle. 

In  cities  and  camps 

I  have  lighted  my  lamps. 
My  kisses  are  caught  by  kings  and  tramps. 

With  rant  and  revel 

My  hair  I  dishevel. 
And  I  am  the  Queen  of  Astrofelle. 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

My  kisses  are  stains. 
Mine  arms  are  chains, 

My  forehead  is  fair  and  false  like  Cain's. 
My  gain  is  loss, 
Mine  honour  is  dross, — 

And  I  am  the  Queen  of  Astrofelle! 

From  the  Poems  of  the  late  Eric  Mackay. 
Published  by  James  Pott  and  Company, 
New  York. 


-Ciso^ 


'THE    DUPE 


,»» 


THE     DAY    OF     DUPES 

The  action  passes  in  The  *  Dupe's  *  Boudoir.  It  is  a 
sombre  room,  draped  in  heavy  black  and  green  vel- 
vet. Everything  is  in  perfect  harmony  of  tone.  The 
hangings,  the  tapestry,  the  furniture  —  all  decorative 
yet  subdued  in  effect.  A  few  admirable  pictures,  a 
grand  piano,  two  easels  with  unfinished  paintings  on 
them.  A  small,  revolving,  three-shelved  book-case 
filed  with  rare  volumes.  A  deeply-recessed  fire-place 
in  which  a  bright  fire  is  blazing  and  over  which 
stretches  a  massive,  hooded  mantel-piece.  On  the 
mantel-piece  are  a  clock,  miniatures,  cameos,  photo^ 
graphs,  and  one  large,  framed  portrait  between  two 
small  mirrors.  A  solid  table  on  which  are  papers, 
magazines,  a  few  books  and  two  large  bouquets.  A 
lounge  with  a  smaller  bouquet  lying  on  the  cushions. 
A  fourth  bouquet  is  on  the  piano. 

A  cabinet  on  which  are  champagne  —  bottles,  decanters, 
syphons,  cigars  and  cigarette-cabinets  and  a  tray  with 
glasses,  corkscrews  and  matches. 

The  atmosphere  is  one  of  Bohemianism  and  Dilettante- 
ism. 

When  the  curtain  rises  the  room  is  quite  empty. 

The  Attendant  enters.  She  is  a  woman  of  about 
thirty-five:    dark,    sinister,    mysterious.     She    has    a 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

quicJc,  penetrating  look,  and  a  hard,  staccato  utter- 
ance. She  looks  around  the  room  sharply  as  if  to 
satisfy  herself  it  is  unoccupied. 

THE    ATTENDANT 

[Very  quietly.]     Walk  in,  sir. 

[Enter  The  Politician,  a  short,  stout,  florid  man;  hold, 
with  a  fringe  of  -white  hair  at  the  hack.  He  is  in 
evening  dress  with  a  cloak  over  it.  He  wears  an  eye- 
glass which  he  toys  with  when  speaking,  fixes  in  his 
eye  when  interested.  Orchid  in  button-hole.  Genial 
and  courtly  manner.] 

THE    ATTENDANT 

She  won't  be  long,  sir.     She's  dressing. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

[Almost  whispering.]  Thanks,  thank  you.  [Walks 
to  table,  humming  tune.  Glances  uneasily  at  The  At- 
tendant, who  has  gone  to  fireplace  and  is  building  up 
the  fire.     He  picks  up  a  paper  —  throws  his  cloak  off.] 

THE    ATTENDANT 

[Going  to  him.]     Let  me  take  it,  sir. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Thank  you,  thanks.  [The  Attendant  takes  hat  and 
cloak,  places  chair  before  fire.] 

THE    ATTENDANT 

Won't  you  sit  by  the  fire?     It's  almost  cold  tonight. 
[Goes  up  and  places  hat  and  cloak  at  back.] 
<132> 


\ 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

THE    POUTICIAN 

Quite  chilly,  quite  chilly.  [Goes  to  fireplace  and 
stretches  out  his  hands  to  the  flames.]  Will  you  —  er  — 
tell  her  I  am  here? 

THE    ATTENDANT 

She  knows.     Heard  you  ring. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Ah !  [Handing  her  a  coin  —  nodding  pleasantly.] 
Buy  yourself  something. 

THE   ATTENDANT 

Thank  you,  sir. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Er  —  you  never  recognize  people  who  call  here? 

THE   ATTENDANT 

Never ! 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Exactly. 

THE    ATTENDANT 

A  quiet  tongue  saves  a  deal  of  trouble.  [Going  to 
door.] 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Quite  right  —  quite  right. 

[A  woman's  voice,  singing,  rises  from  the  adjoining 
room.  The  Attendant  pauses,  listening.  The 
Politician,   looking   around,   catches    The    Attend- 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

ant's    eye.     The    Politician    and    The    Attendant 
stand  a  second  in  the  attitude  of  listening.^ 

THE    politician 

[With  a  pleased  smile.']     Ah! 

the  attendant 
Her  Birthday.     See  the  flowers?     [Goes  out,"] 

THE    politician 

[Looking  at  flowers.']  My  bouquet!  [Smells  it.] 
Beautiful!  Dear  me,  dear  me!  [Puts  it  down  —  sees 
another  bouquet  —  takes  it  up.]  H'm !  Another ! 
How  distressing!  Dear,  dear.  [He  places  it  on  lower 
shelf  of  the  revolving  book-case.]  Quite  so  —  quite  so ! 
[Surveys  his  own  bouquet,  with  satisfaction,  turns  to 
mantel-piece,  sees  the  framed  portrait  —  takes  it  in  his 
hand.]  Oh  dear,  dear,  dear —  [Turns  his  head 
away.]  How  dreadful.  Shocking!  How  could  —  she 
be  photographed  like  that!  How  could  she!  [Fijses 
in  eye-glass  —  examines  it  closely  —  gradually  a  pleased 
smile  comes  across  his  face.]  Dear  me!  Wonderfully 
like  her!  Superb  woman  —  superb!  All  the  same  I 
wish  she  wouldn't —  [Looking  around.]  I  wish  she 
wouldn't  —  ah!  [Goes  to  revolving  book-case  and 
places  photo  on  lower  shelf,  near  the  second  bouquet.] 
That's  better.  Such  a  pity  to  have  —  er  —  that  —  in 
so  —  prominent  a  position !  Quite  so  —  quite  so !  Dear 
me!  [The  clock  strikes  nine.]  Nine.  I  must  be  in 
my  seat  by  10:30  tonight.  The  debate  opens  at  eleven. 
[Stops     before     easel.]     Beautiful!     Very     beautiful! 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

Her  own  work  too!  [TaJces  out  notes,  looks  at  them, 
then  speaks  from  memory.']  "  The  man  who  gives  his 
life  wholly  and  solely  to  his  country's  welfare  —  must 
be  ready  at  any  and  at  all  times  to  —  to  — •  [His  eye 
falls  on  the  bouquet  resting  on  the  lounge]  — to  his 
country's  welfare — "  [Fixes  his  eyeglass,  takes  bou- 
quet and  examines  it  and  reads  card  attached.]  Dear, 
dear  —  this  is  very  unnecessary.  I  wish  —  she  didn't 
know  quite  —  so  —  many  —  people  —  [deposits  it  on 
second  shelf  of  book-case,  then  resumes  his  speech] 
" — to  his  country's  welfare  —  must  be  prepared  at  any 
and  at  all  times  to  sacrifice  his  home,  his  kindred,  the 
dearest  wishes  that  bind  him  to  —  [stares  at  bouquet  on 
lid  of  piano]  —  dearest  wishes  that  — "  Faugh !  [Ex- 
amines card.]  Poetry!  She  has  a  large  circle  of  — 
friends.     A  very  large  circle. 

[Enter  Thh  Attendant.] 

THE    ATTENDANT 

This  way,  sir. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

[Alarmed.]  Good  gracious!  Here  is  someone  else. 
[Throws  bouquet  under  table  and  goes  away  from  the 
line  of  sight  of  the  door.] 

[Enter  The  Financier,  a  tall,  big  built  man,  with  a 
loud,  coarse  voice.  Black,  oily  hair,  whiskers  and 
moustache.  He  is  extravagantly  dressed.  In  con- 
trast to  The  Politician  he  is  blustering  and  assertive, 
the  other  quiet  and  diplomatic,] 
-C1S5> 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

THE    FINANCIEE 

[Seeing  The  Politician  — •  turns  away."]  I'll  call 
again. 

THE    ATTENDANT 

She  particularly  wants  to  see  you,  sir. 

THE    FINANCIEE 

Oh,  does  she?     [Glares  at  The  Politician.] 

THE    POLITICIAN 

[To  The  Attendant,  sidling  up  to  door.'\  I'll  — 
I'll  look  in  another  time. 

THE    ATTENDANT 

She  wants  to  see  you,  too  —  sir,  if  you  don't  mind 
waiting.  [Places  chair  for  The  Financier.]  Won't 
you  sit  down,  sir.^ 

THE    FINANCIER 

All  right. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

How  very  awkward!     Dear!     Dear! 

THE    FINANCIER 

Nice  thing,  this  is ! 

THE    ATTENDANT 

[Looks  from  one  to  the  other,  and  goes  quietly  out,"] 

THE    FINANCIER 

[Examining  The  Politician.]     Old  fool! 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

THE    POLITICIAN 

[E:tamines  The  Financier  furtively.']     A  very  coarse 
looking  person! 

THE    FINANCIER 

Can't  stand  much  of  this ! 

THE   POLITICIAN 

I  suppose  I  ought  to  say  something! 

THE   FINANCIER 

Makes   a  man  look  damn  silly!     [To  The   Politi- 
cian.]    Good  evening. 


THE   POLITICIAN 

{Nervously.'] 

Good  evening. 

THE    FINANCIER 

Warm! 

Very. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

» *»»  J » 

THE    FINANCIER 

Staying  long? 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Oh,  no !     Just  ran  in  for  a  moment. 

THE    FINANCIER 

That's  all  right.     Snug  room. 

THE   POLITICIAN 

Delightful! 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

THE    FINANCIER 

Her   birthday.     [Takes   up   The    Politician's   bou- 
quet.'] 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Yes.     I  called  to  wish  her  happy  returns. 

THE    FINANCIER 
So  did  I. 

[Has  been  looking  around  the  room  —  sees  his  own  bou- 
quet on  shelf  of  book-case  —  takes  it  up,  puis  The 
Politician's  bouquet  in  its  place  and  his  own  in 
prominent  position  on  the  table.  The  Politician 
watches  him  indignantly.] 

THE    FINANCIER 

That's  better! 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Dear,  dear!     I  wish  the  fellow  would  go. 

THE    FINANCIER 

[Turning  round  suddenly.]     I   had  a  good  mind  to 
cut  and  run  when  I  saw  you. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Keally? 

THE    FINANCIER 

Fact.     You  didn't  look  too  comfortable. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

I  wasn't. 

-C138> 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

THE    FINANCIER 

[Laughs.]     Ha !     Ha ! 

THE    POLITICIAN 

[Laughs.]     Ha!     Ha! 

BOTH 

Ha!     Ha!     Ha!     He!     He!     He! 

THE    FINANCIER 

Glad  to  meet  you.     [Holds  out  hand.] 

THE    POLITICIAN 

[Feebly.]      Delighted!      Delighted!      [The   Politi- 
cian and  The  Financier  shake  hands.] 

[Enter  The  Attendant.] 

THE   ATTENDANT 

Step  inside,  sir.      [The  two  men  turn  away  and  go 
out  of  sight  of  the  door.] 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Another ! 

THE    FINANCIER 

I'm  damned! 

[Enter  The  Litterateur.  He  is  a  spare  man,  with 
long  hair  —  pointed  beard  —  pince-nez  —  evening 
dress  —  white  flower  —  low  collar  and  flowing  neck- 
tie. He  has  a  soft,  purring  voice  and  keen,  eager 
eyes.] 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

THE    LITTERATEUE 

[Looking  at  the  two  men,  "whose  backs  are  toward 
him.]     I  thought  I  would  be  alone. 

THE    ATTENDANT 

It's  all  right  —  sir. 

THE    LITTERATEUE 

It  is  not  all  right.     I'll  call  tomorrow. 

THE    ATTENDANT 

But  she  wants  to  see  you  particularly. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

Eh? 

THE   ATTENDANT 

Most  particularly 

[The  Litterateur  looks  indignantly  at  the  two  men's 
hacks.'] 

THE    POLITICIAN 

That's  what  she  said  to  me. 

THE    FINANCIER 

What's  the  little  game  —  I  wonder.^ 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

Can  I  wait  anywhere  else? 

THE    ATTENDANT 

No,  sir.  She  won't  be  long.  Sit  down.  [Takes  his 
hat  and  cane  —  puts  them  at  hack  —  turns  —  Men  all 
in  position  —  ignoring   each   other  —  shrugs   her  shoul' 

-Ci40> 


THE     DAY    OF     DUPES 

ders  with  a  little  laugh.     Goes  to  The  Litterateur.] 
Pity  to  miss  her. 

THE    UTTERATETJB, 

I'U  wait! 

THE   ATTENDANT 

IGlidet  silently  to  the  door  and  goes  out.^ 

THE    POLITICIAN 

It  is  really  too  bad! 

THE   FINANCIER. 

I'll  give  her  a  bit  of  my  mind  for  this. 

THE   LITTERATEUR 

Exceedingly  disagreeable.     I  wonder  who  they  are. 

THE    FINANCIER 

I've  a  good  mind  to  chuck  it. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

I  never  felt  so  uncomfortable  in  all  my  life. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

[Beaming  on  them,  rubbing  his  hands  together  nerv^ 
ously.]  Good  evening,  gentlemen.  I  regret  that  I 
should  have  disturbed  you. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

[Without  looking  roundJ]     Not  in  the  least. 

THE    FINANCIER 

[Bach  still  to  him.']     Haven't  disturbed  me. 


THE     DAY    OF    DUPES 

THE    LITTEEATEUR 

I  had  no  idea  there  would  be  anyone  here. 

THE    FINANCIER 

Hadn't  you? 

THE    LITTERATEUE 

Not  the  slightest. 

THE    FINANCIER 

Well,  there  is  —  someone  here. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

So  I  perceive  —  I  am  afraid  that  I  am  an  intruder. 
[Pause.']  I  think  it  would  be  better  perhaps  if  I  were 
to  go. 

THE    FINANCIER 

Perhaps  it  would. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

[E  a  plaining.']     It  being  her  birthday  — 

THE    FINANCIER 

l^Turning  round  angrily.]     Well.'' 

THE    POLITICIAN 

[Anxious  to  conciliate.]     Er  —  we  all  called. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

Exactly.  However,  these  flowers  have  already  her- 
alded my  good  wishes.  [Raising  The  Financier's 
bouquet  from  the  table.] 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

THE    FINANCIER 

Put  that  down! 

THE   UTTEEATEUR 

£h? 

THE   FINANCIER 

Put  that  bouquet  down. 

THE    I.ITTERATEUR 

[Glances  at  card,  drops  bouquet,  rather  alarmed.] 
There  appears  to  be  some  little  mistake.  Gentlemen  — 
good-night.      [Hurriedly  takes  up  his  hat  and  coat.] 

[The  Politician  and  The  Financier  exchange  relieved 
glances.     The   Attendant  enters.] 

THE   ATTENDANT 

In  here,  sir.     Be  careful. 

[The  Financier  and  The  Politician  recover  their 
positions.  The  Litterateur  goes  hurriedly  to  fire- 
place. Enter  The  Artist, —  a  fair,  handsome,  worn 
man.  He  is  poorly  dressed.  He  has  a  clear,  earnest 
voice  and  a  pathetic  face.  He  looks  in  amazement  at 
the  three  Men.] 

THE    POLITICIAN 

It  will  be  a  solemn  warning  to  me. 

THE   FINANCIER 

I  wonder  how  many  more  are  coming. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

This  promises  to  be  interesting. 


THE     DAY    OF    DUPES 

THE   ATTENDANT 

[To  The  Artist.]     Take  a  seat,  sir. 

THE   AETIST 

I  would  rather  not,  thank  you.     [Moves  in  direction 
of  door.] 

THE    ATTENDANT 

[Stops  him.']     She  wants  to  see  you,  most  particU' 
larly. 

[The  three  Men  exchange  glances  and  turn  away.] 

THE   ARTIST 

You  are  sure? 

THE    ATTENDANT 

Quite. 

THE    ARTIST 

[Looking  at  the  others.]     And  yet  — 

THE   ATTENDANT 

[Under   her   breath    to    The    Artist.]     Don't   mind 
them,  sir.     She's  just  ready. 

THE    ARTIST 

[Hesitates,  then  makes  up  his  mind.]     I'll  stay. 

THE   ATTENDANT 

[Goes  silently  to  door,  looks  mockingly  at  the  four 
men  and  goes  out.] 

THE   FINANCIER 

She's  been  making  a  fool  of  me. 
^144> 


THE     DAY    OF     DUPES 

THE    POLITICIAN 

I  would  never  have  thought  it  of  her. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

I  must  not  be  recognized  here. 

THE    FINANCIER 

I'm  off.     [Making  a  plunge  for  his  hat  and  coat."] 

THE    POLITICIAN 

It  is  impossible  to  remain  now  —     [Goes  for  his  hat 
and  cloak.] 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

The  risk  is  too  great —     [Goes  quickly  for  his  hat 
and  coat.] 

[The  three  Men  meet  at  the  table  confusedly.] 

THE    ARTIST 

One  moment;  gentlemen.     If  anyone  should  go,  surely 
it  is  I.     I  have  only  this  moment  arrived. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

I  was  only  a  second  before  you. 

THE    FINANCIEE 

Well  —  so  was  I. 

THE    ARTIST 

In  that  case  we  should  withdraw  in  favour  of  thai 
gentleman.     [Indicating  The  Politician.] 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Dear  me^  no.     Not  at  all,  I  assure  you ! 


THE     DAY    OF     DUPES 

THE    FINANCIEE 

Can't  understand  why  we've  all  come  like  this. 

THE    ARTIST 

She  invited  me. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Er  —  she  invited  me. 

THE    FINANCIEE 

And  me. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

I  certainly  had  an  invitation. 

THE    ARTIST 

Here  is  the  letter. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Mine  is  destroyed. 

THE    FINANCIER 

Burnt  mine. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

{^Searching  for  and  finding  the  note.]     Here  it  is. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

It  is  certainly  a  most  unfortunate  dilemma. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

It  has  a  solution.  We  are  all  evidently  invited  by 
some  misunderstanding,  on  the  same  evening.  As  we 
are  not  known  to  each  other,  and,  I  may  add,  under  the 


THE     DAY    OF     DUPES 

peculiar  circumstances  of  our  meeting,  it  is  manifestly 
unfair  for  more  than  one  to  remain. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Quite  so. 

THE    FINANCIER 

That's  what  I  think. 

THE    A&TIST 

Certainly. 

THE    LITTERATEUa 

Let  us  draw  lots  who  remains. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Draw  lots? 

THE    AETIST 

By  all  means. 

THE    FINANCIER 

That's  fair  enough. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Quite  fair,  quite  fair. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

Very  well.  There  is  no  time  to  lose.  [Takes  leaves 
out  of  pocket-book  and  proceeds  to  tear  them  into  four 
square  pieces.] 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Er  —  gentlemen  —  I  presume  our  acquaintance  ends 
here?     I'm  sure  I  need  say  no  more?     Eh? 

•C147  3- 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

THE    ARTIST 

I  understand. 

THE   LITTERATEIJR 

Not  another  word. 

THE    riNANCIEE 

That's  what  I  think. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Very  good,  very  good  indeed. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

There.  [Holds  up  three  squares  of  paper.']  Please 
fold  them.  [The  Artist  folds  papers.]  On  this  I  will 
write — "Remain"!  [Writes  in  pencil  on  paper,  folds 
it.]  There.  A  hat,  please.  [The  Artist  brings  a  hat 
—  the  papers  are  thrown  into  it  and  then  they  draw  out 
one  each.] 

[The  *  Dupe's  '  voice  heard  singing  from  the  adjoining 
room.] 

TH 
[Singing.] 

"  Lazy,   laughing,   languid   Jenny, 
Fond  of  a  kiss,  fond  of  a  guinea.**  * 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

Quickly.  She  is  coming.  [They  all  open  out  pieces 
of  paper.]     Blank! 

*  From  "  Jenny  "  by  Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti. 


THE     DAY    OF     DUPES 

THE    POUTICIAN 


Blank! 

Blank! 
"  Remain. 


THE    JTNANCIEK. 


THE    AETIST 


THE    POUTICIAN 

Quite  right,  quite  right.     [Goes  quickly  to  door,] 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

Good  night.     [Goes  to  door,] 

THE    FINANCIER 

Damn  nonsense.     [Goes  to  door.] 

[The  *  Dupe's  *  voice  rises  again.  "  They  all  turn  and 
listen.] 

THE    *  DUPE ' 

[Singing.] 

**  Destiny !     Destiny !     Why  am  I  so  dark  ? 

I  that  have  beauty  and  love  to  be  fair. 
Destiny!     Destiny!     Am  I  but  a  spark 

Track'd  under  heaven  in  flames  and  despair? 
Destiny!     Destiny!     Why  am  I  desired 

Thus  like  a  poisonous  fruit,  deadly  sweet? 
Destiny!     Destiny!     Lo,  my  soul  is  tired; 

Make  me  thy  plaything  no  more,  I  entreat !  "  * 

•  From  **  The  Shaving  of  Shagpat  **  by  George  Meredith. 
-C149> 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

l^The  curtains  are  drawn  hacJc,  and  standing  in  the  cen- 
tre, a  hand  on  each  curtain,  is  The  '  Dupe/  a  beau- 
tiful woman,  tall,  dark,  commanding.  She  is  in  even- 
ing dress,  with  flowers  around  her  throat,  in  her 
breast  and  in  a  garland  round  her  waist.'\ 

THE    '  DUPE  ' 

How  sweet  of  you  all  to  come!  You  have  been  wait- 
ing for  me?  How  unusual!  It  is  I  who  have  always 
waited  for  you,  eh?  Well  —  have  you  nothing  to  say? 
I  see.  You  do  not  know  each  other?  You  shall. 
[Movement  of  alarm  and  protest  by  The  Politician, 
The  Financier  and  The  Litterateur.  The  Artist 
stands  staring  at  her.]  Come,  be  introduced.  [Moves 
down.]  Messieurs  les  —  Politician,  Litterateur, 
Financier  —  [Indicates  each,  looking  round,  sees  The 
Artist.]  Ah,  yes,  and  Artist.  [They  bow  stiffly  to 
each  other.]  No,  no !  Too  cold.  Shake  hands,  please. 
[Laughs  mirthlessly.]  You  men  are  stupid.  Come, 
Artist  —  give  your  hand  to  Literature.  Politics,  yours 
to  Finance  — 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Might  I  suggest? 

THE   FINANCIER 

Yes,  I  would  like  to  know  — 

THE    '  DUPE ' 

You  wonder  why  I  have  brought  you  all  together? 
It  was  indiscreet,  eh? 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

THE    POLITICIAN 

It  was  certainly  unwise. 

THE    FINANCIEE 

Simply  ridiculous. 

THE    LITTEEATEUE 

It  was  hardly  fair. 

THE    AETIST 

Perhaps  — 

THE    *  DUPE  ' 

I  have  brought  you  all  here  tonight  to  bid  me  "  good- 
bye " !  This  is  our  last  meeting.  Tomorrow  we  all  go 
different  ways,  and  we  must  never  cross  each  other's 
paths  again. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

How  very  distressing. 

THE    FINANCIER 

Humbug ! 

THE    LITTERATEUE 

A  most  extraordinary  person! 

THE    *  DUPE ' 

[Turning  to  The  Financier.]  This  is  what  you 
would  call  a  meeting  of  directors  to  wind  up  a  company. 
Debts  must  be  paid  today, —  partnerships  dissolved. 
But  we  must  do  it  pleasantly.  A  little  wine  —  a  little 
seriousness,  a  little  laughter,  and  then !  Voila !  —  Go ! 
Come,  Financier,  take  the  chair  of  the  Board.     [She 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

places  a  chair  for  Aim.]  Sit  down,  sir.  [The  Fin- 
ancier sulkily  drops  into  chair.]  Fellow  directors,  ar- 
range yourselves.  Politics  —  there.  [Indicates  lounge."] 
Litterateur  in  front  of  Finance,  Artist  in  the  centre. 
Good.  A  happy  augury.  Money  helps;  letters  immor- 
talize; the  politician  sometimes  ennobles  the  artist.  Sir 
[to  The  Artist],  you  are  well  placed. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

Most  happily  expressed. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Admirably,  quite  admirably! 

THE   financier 

[Under  his  breath.]     Tom  foolery! 

THE   '  DUPE  ' 

Now  to  business.  First  —  smoke!  Oh,  you  may! 
[To  The  Financier.]  A  Corona  for  you — .  [She 
selects  one  and  examines  it  critically.]  There  —  try 
that  —  and  do  please  look  cheerful!  Matches!  [To 
The  Litterateur.]  Intimidad  for  the  author.  Say 
"  thank  you "  and  laugh.  That's  better.  And  poli- 
tics— 

THE   politician 

Not  now  —  thanks  very  much,  thank  you. 

THE    ' DUPE ' 

Ah  —  you  debate  tonight? 


THE     DAY    OF     DUPES 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Yes  —  most  critical  position. 

THE    ' DUPE  ' 

What  you  politicians  suffer.  How  grateful  we  should 
be !  [Turns  away  with  a  little  laugh  —  to  The  Artist.] 
Artist,  cigarette.'*  [Hands  him  one.]  I  will  join  you. 
Now,  wine.  Who  will  help  me.^  [All  rise.]  You 
open  the  bottles  [to  The  Financier  and  The  Artist], 
you  bring  the  tray.  [To  The  Litterateur.]  And 
you —     [To  The  Politician.] 

the  politician 
[In  an  undertone.]     Is  it  really  goodbye? 

the   *  DUPE ' 

Yes. 

THE    politician 

Anything  serious.'* 

THE    *  dupe ' 

Very! 

THE    politician 

If  I  can  be  of  any  assistance  — 
the   *  DUPE ' 

You  shall  be  — 

the  politician 
In  any  possible  way  — 

the   *  DUPE ' 

There  will  be  only  one  way  — 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Er  —  a  cheque  — 

THE    ' DUPE ' 

Yes  —  on  your  tongue  —  after  tonight  —  that's  all ! 
l^Laughs  mockingly  at  him.'\ 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Really,  I  am  quite  bewildered. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

[Holding  up  glass. 1  Gentlemen,  I  feel  I  shall  be 
only  echoing  the  thought  that  is  in  all  our  minds  at  this 
moment  in  wishing  our  charming  hostess  — "  many,  many 
happy  returns."  [They  all  drink  to  "many,  many 
happy  returns."] 

THE    *  DUPE ' 

[Bowing  deeply.]  I  thank  you  from  my  heart.  [She 
is  standing  —  she  motions  the  others  to  be  seated.]  And 
yet  do  I  want  many  returns  of  today?  And  would  they 
be  happy?  I  wonder!  And  now  before  I  dismiss  you 
I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  little  story  and  preach  you  a 
little  sermon.  Is  it  not  good  ?  What  do  you  say  ?  You 
all  look  very  stupid.  Poor  men!  First  you  shall  have 
the  story  —  but  you  mustn't  laugh  —  it  is  serious  —  oh 
—  very  serious.  Laugh!  You  will  never  laugh  again 
to  judge  from  the  length  of  your  faces  now!  [Laughs 
merrily  —  then  suddenly  stops  and  begins  in  an  altered 
tone  —  sometimes  leaning  against  the  table  —  sometimes 
moving  about  —  now  addressing  one  —  then  another.] 
There  was  once  a  girl,  oh,  such  a  bright,  happy,  inno- 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

cent  girl!  [Turns  to  The  Politician.]  Innocent  as 
your  daughter  in  the  convent  —  and  as  happy.  But 
there  came  a  great  longing  in  her  heart.  She  yearned 
to  see  the  marvellous  world  that  lay  outside  her  prison 
bars ;  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  lands  and  of  the  peoples 
she  dreamed  of  by  night,  and  sighed  for  by  day.  And 
this  longing  grew  until  it  became  a  fever  that  consumed 
her,  that  threatened  to  burn  away  her  life.  She  was 
foolish,  eh.^  Ah,  yes!  she  was  —  very  foolish.  But 
then  we  are  all  foolish.  And  she,  at  least,  had  the 
excuse  of  Youth.  One  day  someone  came  to  her  and 
offered  her  the  key  that  would  open  her  prison  door, 
the  golden  key  that  meant  liberty.  But  it  was  to  be 
paid  for.  A  price  was  on  the  key,  as  there  is  on  every- 
thing, and  the  price  for  her  freedom  was  the  captivity 
of  her  heart.  And  she  paid  it.  She  gave  her  deliverer 
her  young,  trusting  heart,  and  he  took  her  away  from 
the  home  she  thought  a  prison  and  she  saw  the  great 
world  of  beauty,  and  lived  in  the  great  world  of  love, 
and  felt  that  happiness  had  nothing  more  to  give. 

THE    LITTERATEUB 

How  wonderful  is  youth  —  golden  youth ! 

THE    *  DUPE ' 

A  beautiful  story,  is  it  not.^ 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Delightful  —  quite  delightful ! 

THE    riNANCIEE 

Bosh!     Sickly,  sentimental  bosh! 

-CIS*  3- 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

THE    *  DUPE  ' 

Artist?     What  do  you  say? 

[The  Artist  moves  away."] 

THE    XITTERATEUE 

And  a  very  healthy  lesson,  too.     Love  the  deliverer. 
Very  excellent. 

THE    ' DUPE ' 

Yes,  but  the  story  isn't  finished. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

Not  finished? 

THE    ' DUPE ' 

No;  the  best  part  is  to  come. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

Really? 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Charming ! 
Rot! 


THE    FINANCIER 


One  day  the  deliverer,  tired  of  his  companion,  went 
his  way  and  left  her  alone.  And  then  she  found  that 
she  was  more  a  prisoner  than  she  ever  had  been  in  her 
home.  She  had  now  forged  the  chains  herself  that  held 
her  bound,  and  no  one  in  all  the  world  could  ever  break 
the  chain  that  memory  held  together  link  by  link.     What 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

did  she  do?  Faced  the  world  with  a  laughing  face;  hid 
away  her  sorrow;  lived  freely,  carelessly,  recklessly,  but 
always  with  the  chains  around  her  heart,  despair  in  her 
soul.  And  she  made  friends  who  took  her  away  and 
showed  her  strange  countries.  Lands  where  the  sun 
shone  all  night.  Countries  where  music  and  painting 
found  echoes  in  every  street.  Cities  of  pleasure,  cities 
of  grief  —  and  the  world  glided  by  her  in  brilliant  quart 
d'heures  —  except  when  the  chains  pressed  —  pressed  — 
pressed.  And  then  one  day  something  happened  that 
she  had  always  dreaded.  She  had  one  love  that  she 
clung  to  in  the  great  waste  of  her  life,  a  love  she  could 
never  speak  of,  could  never  show.  And  the  chains  that 
she  had  wrought  could  not  crush  out  that  love  from  her 
heart.  Was  it  not  strange.^  It  was  for  the  keeper  of 
her  child's  prison, —  her  father.  He  died  —  whilst  she 
danced  and  laughed  —  far  away  from  him.  A  grim 
story,  eh? 

THE   AETIST 

And  the  sequel? 

THE    *  DUPE ' 

That  is  to  come.  Rich  now,  through  the  death  of  her 
father,  independent  of  her  friends,  she  called  them  to- 
gether to  say  farewell,  and  to  close  for  ever  the  entries 
they  had  made  in  the  book  of  her  life.  Gentlemen  — 
my  story  is  ended. 

THE    FINANCIEE 

She  is  in  earnest.  Farewell?  Bah!  I'm  not  going 
to  lose  her  like  that. 

■C157  3- 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Can  it  be  that  this  is  the  end?     Dear,  dear. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

[To  The  *  Dupe.']     You  have  interested  me  deeply. 

THE    ' DUPE  ' 

[Bows  mockingly.]     Oh,  sir! 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

I  would  never  have  thought  it,  never.  It  has  been 
most  helpful,  most  helpful. 

THE    ARTIST 

[To  The  *  Dupe.']     Why  have  you  done  this? 

THE    '  DUPE  ' 

Wait.  You'll  see.  Sermon  next.  Only  a  little  one. 
Politician,  you  work  in  a  glass-house  with  all  the  blinds 
drawn,  and  everything  goes  smoothly.  But  one  day  a 
blind  is  left  up,  the  world  peeps  in,  and  then  there  is  a 
crisis,  eh?  And  the  politician  has  to  go.  Why?  Be- 
cause, like  everything  human,  he  has  made  a  mistake. 
This  is  a  mistake.  Take  care  no  blind  is  left  up! 
[Holding  up  glass.]  Here's  to  tlie  drawn  blind. 
[Moving  to  The  Financier.]  Financier,  your  invest- 
ments are  good,  your  house  is  large,  your  servants  many;, 
your  wife  fat. 

THE    FINANCIER 

[Looking  up  angrily.]      What! 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

THE    ' DUPE ' 

Oh,  it  is  true  your  wife  has  lost  her  attractiveness. 
But  there  are  five  —  or  are  there  six?  —  children. 

THE    FINANCIEE 

IFuriously.^     Enough  of  that. 

THE    *  DUPE ' 

Oh,  quite  enough.  But  about  yourself.  You  have 
put  your  life  out  at  "  profit  and  loss  " —  it  reads  loss. 
Money  buys  you  nothing  that  is  worth  the  buying.  It  is 
a  millstone  that  is  dragging  you  down,  and  others  with 
you.  May  you  lose  every  penny  you  have  and  work  in 
the  heat  of  the  day.  It  would  be  your  redemption! 
POVERTY  to  you! 

THE  FINANCIEB. 

Rot! 

THE    '  DUPE  ' 

ITo  The  Litterateur.]  And  you,  man  of  letters, 
skilful  with  your  pen,  brilliant  in  imagination,  look  up, 
my  friend.  Look  at  the  stars,  and  the  sky,  and  the  sun. 
Smell  the  flowers.  Don't  walk  amongst  the  refuse  in 
the  highways  and  the  by-ways.  Take  the  clean  and  the 
healthy  for  your  subjects,  not  the  halt,  the  lame  and  the 
blind.  Remember,  yours  is  the  greatest  power  today. 
Don't  throw  it  all  away  for  the  hospital,  the  boudoir, 
and  the  slum!  Look  up,  my  friend.  Look  up!  [Turns 
to  the  others.]  Why,  how  serious  you  all  are !  Because 
I  have  preached  to  you?  And  yet  time  and  time  again 
you  have  lectured  me,  eh  ? 


THE     DAY    OF     DUPES 

THE    FINANCIEE 

Are  we  going  to  have  much  more  of  this? 

THE    '  DUPE  ' 

Just  as  much  or  as  little  as  I  wish.  [Turning  to  The 
Artist.]  Oh  artist,  quiet  and  pensive,  a  picture! 
Sweet  eighteen;  spoilt  child;  crying  for  what  she  cannot 
have.  The  sun  above  —  the  waving  corn  —  and  the 
maiden  pining,  pining,  pining.  But  see!  There  is 
someone  standing  beside  her.  His  eyes  look  brave  and 
honest.  He  takes  her  hand.  He  kisses  it!  Look! 
The  face  is  like  someone's  in  this  room !  It  is  like  your 
face!  It's  a  pretty  picture  —  eh?  [The  Artist 
moans,  his  face  in  his  hands.']  Another  picture.  A  poor 
lodging,  a  lonely  woman,  pale  and  ill,  crying  as  though 
her  heart  would  break,  as  though  it  were  broken.  Look 
closely,  again.  It  is  the  girVs  face,  but  older,  worn,  and 
with  knowledge  looking  from  behind  the  eyes.  A  hid- 
eous picture,  eh?  It  is  only  one.  There  are  hundreds 
no  hand  or  tongue  will  ever  paint.  [Leaves  The 
Artist:  turns  to  the  others.]  Story  and  sermon  are 
over!  And  now  for  the  last  scene  of  this  little  comedy 
and  in  it  you  must  all  play  a  part.  It  is  the  scene  that 
closes  the  board  meeting  by  the  payment  of  debts.  I 
am  indebted  to  you  all  —  you  are  all  indebted  to  me. 
I  have  kept  the  accounts.  Politician,  I  owe  you  some 
glimpses  of  Paradise.  Nice,  Monte  Carlo,  Florence, 
Rome,  Naples.  You  were  a  delightful  guide  and  as 
kind  as  a  friend.  Your  yacht  was  lovely  —  you  gave 
it  me.  You  called  it  "  Butterfly  "  after  me.  I  owe  you 
-CI60:}. 


THE     DAY    OF     DUPES 

as  well  some  money.  I  return  you  everything.  [Hands 
him  a  packet,  he  refuses  it.]  You  must.  It  was  a  loan, 
—  I  took  it  without  hesitation  —  I  repay  it.  [Leaves 
packet  in  his  hands.] 

THE    POUTICIAN 

Really  — 

THE    *  DUPE ' 

My  new  journey  begins  tomorrow  —  tonight  I  pay 
back  the  past.  Mr.  Financier,  what  do  I  owe  you? 
[Thinks.]  Let  me  see.  Norway  —  a  happy  time!  I 
dreamed  there,  dreamed  always.  Such  beautiful  dreams 
too.  Sometimes  I  look  out  of  that  little  window,  over 
the  housetops,  and  dream  them  all  again.  This  flat  is 
yours,  furniture,  lease,  everything.  Also  a  little  matter 
of  shares  with  enormous  dividends.  I  pay  them  back. 
[Hands  him  a  packet.] 

THE   riNANCIEE 

Don't  be  a  fool ! 


I  have  always  been  a  fool! 

[The  Financier  waves  her  away.] 

THE    *  DUPE  ' 

You  must !     [Forces  the  packet  into  his  hands.]     And 
now.  Litterateur  —  what  do  I  owe  you? 

THE   UTTEEATEUR 

Really  — 


THE     DAY    OF     DUPES 


Serious  talks.  Paris  for  a  month  —  more  talks. 
London  in  the  small  hours  —  we  talk  again.  All  in  the 
interests  of  literature.  You  thought  you  were  expand- 
ing yourself  body  and  soul  in  my  company.  You  were 
really  finding  life  in  my  changing  moods  —  in  my  levity, 
my  seriousness;  my  beauty,  my  hideousness;  my  temper, 
my  smiles,  my  tears.  You  will  endeavour  to  perpetuate 
me  in  some  book  or  play  and  think  you  have  benefited 
literature.  Go  to  a  factory  or  work-shop  and  take  some 
girl  with  red  hands  and  plaintive  face  —  depict  her  and 
her  struggles,  her  fears,  her  hopes,  her  joys,  and  you 
will  do  society  and  mankind  a  greater  kindness  than  a 
hundred  courtesans,  with  their  scented  rooms,  false  lives, 
false  pleasures,  false  griefs,  smiling  faces  and  aching 
hearts.  Go  out  into  the  beautiful  world  —  leave  us 
alone.  God  has  given  you  a  great  gift.  Use  it  as  a 
great  gift.  Fly  your  banner  to  the  sky.  Don't  trail  it 
in  the  mud.  Now  what  do  I  owe  you  ?  Why,  of  course. 
Three  volumes  of  your  poems.  [Takes  them  from  the 
booJccase.  Reads  the  titles  aloud  and  hands  them  to 
him.]  "Lost  Souls"  *'  An  Outcast  of  Paris"  "A 
Romance  of  the  Morgue."     There. 

THE   lilTTERATEUE 

But  I  don't  want  them.     I  wrote  them. 


I  don't  want  them.     I've  read  them.      [Embracing  the 
four  men  in  a  gesture.']     One  more  toast  —  and  then  I 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

dismiss  you.  You,  Society  thinks,  are  all  my  dupes. 
Society  is  wrong.  It  is  I  who  am  the  dupe  of  all.  This 
is  the  Day  of  Dupes.  From  cottage  to  palace  —  that 
dupe  is  woman!  The  dupe  of  love,  of  passion,  of  en- 
vironment. Give  us  freedom,  we  dupes,  and  we  would 
not  be  as  I  have  been  —  a  slave  living  in  chains,  chains 
forged  by  myself  but  placed  on  me  by  you.  "  The  Day 
of  Dupes !  To  the  awakening  of  Woman ! "  [Puts 
down  her  glass. "l  The  meeting  is  over,  the  board  is 
dissolved !  Take  your  hats  and  coats  —  say  goodbye, 
and  go  out  into  the  night!  [They  all  go  for  their  hats 
and  coats.]  Oh!  Please  don't  all  go  at  once!  Think 
of  my  reputation!  But  perhaps  you  don't  think  of  my 
reputation  ? 

THE    POLITICIAN 

Can  I  never  see  you  again  ? 

THE    *  DUPE ' 

Never. 

THE    POLITICIAN 

I  will  leave  everything  —  home  —  public  life.  Come 
away  — 

THE    *  DUPE ' 

Hush!  Goodbye!  [They  stand  looking  at  each  other 
a  moment  —  she  drops  her  eyes  —  his  hand  clenches  — 
he  shivers  —  goes  to  door  and  passes  out."] 

THE    FINANCIEE 

This  is  all  humbug—"  Butterfly." 


THE     DAY     OF    DUPES 

THE    *  DUPE  '' 

"  Butterfly  "  no  more.  The  summer-time  is  over  and 
the  beautiful  "  Butterfly  "  gives  up  her  roaming  and  dis- 
appears. 

THE    FINANCIER 

I'll  come  round  tomorrow. 

THE    ' DUPE ' 

I  shall  be  gone. 

THE   FINANCIER 

I'll  find  you. 

THE    ' DUPE ' 

No  use  if  you  do.  [The  Financier  tries  to  take  her 
in  his  arms.     Repulsing  him.l 

r  THE    FINANCIER 

I'll  find  you!     [Goes  out  abruptly.'] 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

Perhaps  it  is  for  the  best. 

THE    *  DUPE  ' 

Let  OS  hope  so. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

I  am  pleased  —  most  pleased  —  to  have  known  you. 

THE    *  DUPE  ' 

Glad  I've  been  useful. 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

You  wrong  me. 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 
Do  I? 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

You  do,  indeed. 

THE    '  DUPE  ' 

I  will  look  out  for  another  masterpiece  on  "  La  Courte- 
san."    Call  it  "  The  Day  of  Dup.es." 

T^E    MTTERATEUR 

/  am  the  dupe.     I  thought  you  cared  for  me. 


THE 

*  DUPE  ' 

Not  in 

the  least. 

• 

THE    LITTERATEUR 

No? 

THE 

*  DUPE  ' 

No. 

THE    LITTipRATEUR 

[Crestfallen.]     Oh!     [Goes  out.] 

THE    *  DUPE ' 

[Looking  at  The  Artist.]  Why  have  you  not  gone? 
I  see.  I  have'  not  returned  you  your  gifts.  [Takes 
locket  and  chain  from  around  her  neck.]  All  you  ever 
gave  me.  Take  them!  [Throws  them  on  the  table.] 
Give  me  again  what  I  gave  you!     Go. 

THE    ARTIST 

I  can't  leave  you  —  like  this. 
<  165  > 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

THE    '  DUPE  ' 

You  did  once. 

THE    ARTIST 

I'll  make  amends. 

THE    '  DUPE  ' 

What  amends  can  you  make?  [Pause.]  Do  you 
mean  you'd  marry  me.^      [Pause.]     You  don't  answer. 

THE    ARTIST 

I  would  have  asked  you  years  ago,  but  I  thought  then 
that  love  should  be  free.  That  men  and  women  work 
out  their  destinies  more  fully  alone.  I  think  so  no 
longer. 


What  changed  you? 

THE    ARTIST 

Experience  has  taught  me  that  no  life  can  be  fully 
expressed  alone. 


You  mean  no  man's  life? 

THE    ARTIST 

Nor  woman's.  It  is  the  perfect  harmony  of  man  and 
woman  —  two  human  beings  forming  one  complete  na- 
ture—  that  makes  life  at  its  fullest.  When  I  left  you, 
my  art  died.  My  fingers  could  paint  no  more.  My  in" 
spiration  had  gone. 

<  166  3- 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 


The  cry  of  the  sloven !  The  wail  of  the  incompetent ! 
Art  is  divine.  It  is  not  dependent  on  another  human 
being.  It  is  in  one's  self.  The  need  of  inspiration ! 
The  excuse  of  the  vicious.  The  plea  of  the  satyr  to 
the  innocent:  "  I  need  you  as  my  inspiration."  If 
your  art  depended  on  my  degradation,  it  is  better  it 
should  have  died.  You  say  no  life  can  be  fully  expressed 
alone.  Mine  shall  be.  What  has  the  companionship  of 
men  done  for  me.''  What  has  mine  done  for  them?  I 
am  their  equal  by  birthright.  But  they  have  never 
treated  me  as  one.  They  did  not  want  the  best  of  me  — 
they  demanded  the  worst.  And  so  the  politician,  the 
financier,  the  man  of  letters  and  the  artist  found  their 
way  to  the  one  woman  and  in  degrading  her  they  de- 
graded themselves.  It  is  the  canker  in  their  natures; 
the  open  sore  in  their  lives,  that  dulls  their  talents,  dims 
their  careers,  and  sends  them  to  forgotten  graves. 

THE    ARTIST 

Let  me  do  something.  Let  me  at  least  help  you.  I 
am  sorry.  O,  how  I  am  sorry.  Let  me  help  you.  You 
can't  face  the  world  alone.  You  tried  to  once.  It 
brought  you  to  this. 

THE    *  DUPE ' 

It  is  difTerent  now.  You  left  me  penniless.  My 
father  abandoned  me  as  you  did.  But  now  I  have 
money.  It  is  only  the  poor  men  prey  on.  Money  will 
keep  the  vultures  away  from  me.  They  don't  seek  their 
prey  when  they  are  secured  by  money.     You  left  me  at 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

their  mercy.  I  ask  nothing  of  you,  but  to  go.  I  never 
want  to  see  you  again.  I  only  brought  you  here  tonight 
to  show  you  what  wreck  such  as  you  can  make  of  a 
woman's  life.  The  love  such  as  you  offered  —  without 
reverence  —  can  turn  the  child  I  was  into  the  woman 
of  bitterness  I  am  now.  I  have  drunk  deeply  of  the 
waters  of  bitterness.  I  am  indeed  the  "  Queen  of  AstrO' 
felle/*     I  have  shown  you  your  lesson.     Go. 

[The  Artist  creeps  out.  The  *  Dupe  '  stands  perfectly 
still  for  a  few  moments,  then  straightens  up  and  flings 
up  her  arms  with  a  great  gesture  of  relief.  Her  eyes 
fall  on  the  miniature.  With  a  look  of  fury  she 
snatches  it  up,  goes  to  the  fire,  and  hurls  it  into  the 
grate.  Then  she  rings,  and  stands  looking  into  the 
fire.     Enter  The  Attendant.] 


THE 

' DUPE ' 

Is  the  car  here! 

> 

THE   ATTENDANT 

Yes. 

THE 

*  DUPE  ' 

My  trunks.^ 

• 

THE    ATTENDANT 

At  the  railway  station. 

THE 

*  DUPE  ' 

My  cloak. 

[The   Attendant 

•   goes 

into   the   adjoining   room 

and 

brings 

out  cloak.l 

< 

168  > 

THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

THE    '  DUPE  ' 

[Putting  it  over  her  shoulders.]     Give  the  keys  to  the 
agent. 

THE    ATTENDANT 

Your  letters? 

THE    *  DUPE ' 

Left.     No  address. 

THE   ATTENDANT 

Any  callers.^ 
Gone. 
For  good? 
For  good. 
But  — 


THE  ATTENDANT 


THE  ATTENDANT 


THE  *  DUPE  ' 

Put  that  in  the  car.     [Points  to  a  box  on  the  table.'] 
[The  Attendant  takes  up  the  box  and  goes  out.] 

THE   *  DUPE ' 

[Looks  around  the  room,  turns  off  the  lights.     Only 

the  glow  from  the  fire  in  the  room.     She  goes   to  the 

windows  and  thrusts  them  open.     Very  faintly  can  be 

heard  Rubinstein's  '*  Kammenoi   Ostrow "  in   the   near 


THE     DAY     OF     DUPES 

distance.  The  *  Dupe  '  turns  away  from  the  window 
and  looking  upwards  in  an  attitude  of  prayer,  she 
pleads.]  Oh,  Thou  —  Thou  who  once  forgave  the  Mag- 
dalen,—  I  come  to  You  —  even  as  she  did  —  covered  in 
Sin,  an  outcast  of  mankind,  despised  of  women.  I  come 
to  You  to  pray  You  to  help  me  to  walk  alone!  [She 
passes  out.] 


THE    END 


-C170> 


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